


Whumptober 2020 - Saiouma Collection

by Scornful_truth



Category: Danganronpa
Genre: "Don't say goodbye", "Get it out", "Pick Who Dies", "Take me instead", "run!", A forced yes is not a yes, Abandonment, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Anaphylaxis, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Apartment Fire, Bittersweet Ending, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Bullying, Burns, Car Accidents, Character Death, Corsetry, Crying, Death, Defiance, Dirty Secret, Emotional Hurt, Enemy to Caretaker, Failed escape, Fights, Fire, Friends to Lovers, Gaslighting, Grief/Mourning, Gun Violence, Hanging, Head Injury, Held at Gunpoint, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Trans Ouma Kokichi, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Isolation, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Cancer, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misgendering, Neglect, No Happy Ending Fest, Pain, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Police Brutality, Post-Game, Rescue, Ritual Sacrifice, Self-Sacrifice, Separations, Severe allergic reaction, Sexual Abuse, Shooting Guns, Spirit - Freeform, Struggling, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Support, Tears, Third degree burns, Trans Character, Trans Saihara Shuichi, Transphobia, Unhealthy Binding, Unplanned Pregnancy, Waking up Restrained, Whump, Whumptober 2020, Zombie Bites, bee stings, blood trail, caged, collapsed building, death by fire, forced to their knees, maladaptive daydreaming, manhandled, no more, wrongfully accused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 34,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scornful_truth/pseuds/Scornful_truth
Summary: 31 painful short stories for 31 days of October.This is for fun and practice so hold low expectations.PLEASE ADHERE TO THE TAGS THIS COLLECTION MAY CONTAIN TRIGGERING EVENTS AND TOPICS FOR YOU
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 100
Kudos: 457
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. #No.1 Waking Up Restrained | Hanging

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.1 Waking Up Restrained | Hanging]**
> 
> \- Car Crash  
> \- Implied Character Death  
> \- Injuries 
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion.**

The first breath he takes is choked. The moment is shocking, bloodshot eyes flew open, a stifled cry escapes his lips, and the intense pressure swelling in his ears and behind his eyes continues to build. His memory is shot, blurry bright images stain his thoughts, he blinked again, biting his split lip.

Steam and smoke erupt and grow in mass a foot from his head. His blood-red fingers dangle above him, welling with numbness. Cuts mark and streak across his forehead, his left shoulder pulsed and throbbed in a painful chorus. His lungs trembled as he breathed again. His bleary eyes cleared as he blinked.

And he gasped when he caught sight of the wheel. The dashboard. The shattered windshield, and blood peppering the thousand of fractures and bursts of glass. 

A crushing weight dropped into his stomach. Making him feel sick, spurring on a roaring headache. Getting worse the more blood coursed through his hammering temples. 

A flash of memory bled into his mind, his hands on the wheel. Feeling panicked. Feeling terrified. A slip on the road, two screams, and a sickening thud with a groan of pain being the last he heard. 

His thoughts blanked. His ears, pounding and ringing, opened up and allowed him to hear it. His ears weren’t the one pounding. Rain thundered around him. Water pooled in the space above his head. Though, the storm raging on couldn’t compensate for his horrifying thoughts. 

He crashed, they flipped. And he was hanging, struggling to breathe, inside his car. 

_ They flipped. _

_ Two screams. _

Nearly numb from the way his body was crushed and pinned in his seat, he jerked his head to see the person beside him. Shuichi choked back a sob as he stared.

Kokichi’s hands hang past his head, but his face is visible. Rather red like Shuichi’s, it’s violently bare and pale. His complexion is deathly white, grey even. Blood drips, and splatters on the broken windshield, seeping from a gash opened along his forehead. 

“...Kokichi,” He gasps, rain roaring like a beast hungry for the need to feed. It crashes over the car, whatever fire had started was put out, but heaps and bundles of toxic smoke unearth itself from the busted engine. “...K..Kokichi…” His tongue feels like lead, his teeth chatter in the striking chill of the air, “...K-K…” A sharp inhale burns his throat as the smoke bellowed inside the car.

Desperation fills him, fueled by pain, he bites his cries as he brings his hands to the buckle. He groans as his left shoulder popped and ground against bone. He shoved his wet slicked fingers in the buckle, and in a painful motion, he crumpled from his seat and landed right on top off his left shoulder.

He coughed and wheezed, now soaked with rainwater, he shoved himself by Kokichi in the small cramped crawlspace of his car. “Kokichi…” He hissed, wheezing with each strained breath. His lungs still felt condensed. He fumbled his hands around his belt buckle.

It snapped free and Kokichi tumbled from his hanging position. Limp, lifeless, one-touch to his skin sent chills down Shuichi’s back. 

He pressed his index and middle finger against his neck, checking for a pulse, any pulse. As the wind roared, and rain crashed onto the car, he hunched over Kokichi’s flaccid and slack body. Blood dripped down his colorless face, but Shuichi felt it, a faint and terribly soft thump. 

It was hard to detect, but Shuichi sucked in a thankful breath at the feeling of the struggling heartbeat beneath his fingers. 

His heart raced, his breath caught, even though Kokichi showed signs of life, he was dying. His breaths that puffed from his blue lips were shallow and strained. Shuichi could feel the rattling in his lungs with each inhale as he pressed his palm against his chest. 

Before he could lose his breath and little composure, he jerked at the sound of the door windows being shattered. Glass fractures crumpled into small pieces onto the road, rain pummeled the world, making it nearly impossible to see who stood outside.

A flashlight shone inside the car, blinding him for a moment. A deep voice of a man shouted over the booming of the rain, “You alright in there?” 

A hand reached for him, then two, and a few more. He hadn’t realized his body had gone numb. Succumbing to shock the moment the man asked. He meant to tell them his boyfriend was unresponsive, but fortunately, he was pulled out onto the road beside him. Rain poured, thunder rolled, lightning cracked, muddled view of red and blue lights blinded him.

He was helped into an ambulance, sheltered by the rain. Kokichi was strapped into a stretcher. Dark splotches of maroon grew in places over his lithe body. Bleeding into his clothes, catching the water that soaked him. 

Shuichi remembered hearing  _ “he may not make it” _ , before waking up in a hospital room.

Alone. 


	2. #No.2 "Pick Who Dies" | Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Saihara, pick who dies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.2 "Pick Who Dies" | Kidnapped]**
> 
> -Gunshots  
> -Tied Up Victims  
> -Forced Murder
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

His clammy hands trembled around the handle. The shake could be seen in his fingers, how his index finger jostled the trigger. Spurring up a quick and quiet clicking. An uncomfortable heat stuck to his forehead and neck. He’s beyond nervous, anxious, his breath bubbled in his lungs, waiting impatiently for an exhale.

“Saihara.” Her curt tone cut through his trembling thoughts. He flinched, looking over at empty red eyes. “It’s okay.” Her voice doesn’t lift, nor does it drop. It’s painfully flat like she’d been preparing herself for this moment all her joyless life. 

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut again, the gun in his hand lowered, his head bowed forward. “No...It’s, It’s not okay.” He breathed, his chest clenched, his breath hissed past his lips. He wasn’t quick to inhale, so he still stood there with lips pressed together, in the middle of a cold, mostly concrete, room.

Maki Harukawa sat on the floor, her back against the wall, her knees to her chest, and her hands were bound together over her legs. Standing around the edges of the room were future foundation members. In their jet black suits and dead, serious stares. Either pinpointed on Shuichi or the two individuals against the wall. 

Despite the room being cold, he felt like he had been lit on fire. His hands burned, his stomach churned with gurgling nerves. He shifted his fear-ridden eyes to the second victim. Kokichi Ouma sat slumped, his shoulder against the wall, his forehead pressed against his knees. His hands bound behind him.

His breathing is shallow, Shuichi can tell he’s in pain. He’s making a grand effort to not show it, but moments ago he opened his mouth to make a snarky remark, but one of the well-built men slammed their knee into his chest. Kokichi has a talent for putting on a face, but if it’s cracking this badly, Shuichi can’t help but conclude his rib is broken. 

Shuichi was given the strenuous task of delivering a punishment. These two, who he knows so painfully well, were caught. Kokichi is the head of a growing organization, one working to control the world’s broken ways. Maki, who swore herself to only the assassination of those against what she believes is right.

But they were caught.

They were caught, and Shuichi has to pick who sees morning, and who gets their blood splattered on the wall.

“I know you won’t kill him,” Maki said blatantly. No, no Shuichi won’t. He can’t. It made him feel sick thinking about it, but nausea swirled greater when he genuinely thought of sacrificing Maki, his friend, his family. 

The woman behind him cleared her throat. Her void dead tone was like nails ripping against his skin, someone who he used to look up to, someone he aspired to be, ended up being nothing more than a heartless individual. Who was willing to sacrifice innocent life to carve the world to her ideals.

“Shuichi Saihara,” Unlike Maki’s tone, her voice is pinched. As if she’s growing heated and impatient. “Pick who takes the consequence for their actions. Remember, this is not murder, and you will not be punished for doing what is lawfully correct.” 

She knows he hates to take life. She knows he’s dreading this. He was her apprentice, and she knows he always hesitates before the trigger, she’s trying to break him out of it. But he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want  _ this. _

“...A-And whoever I pick,” Shuichi swallowed hard, shaking as he began to aim the gun at Maki. “...The other who I… I don’t pick, they get medical treatment.” He flickered his eyes to Kokichi who stifled a cough of pain. His teeth are clenched when he looks up at Shuichi. He looks frustrated, angry even, but his eyes are filled with more than one kind of pain. 

Kokichi grew up with Maki. They put up a front and make sure everyone thinks they are mortal enemies, so no one will hold the other against them. After all, loved ones are the death of you. Kokichi will hate Shuichi if he kills Maki, Maki will hate him, secretly, if he kills Kokichi. Shuichi wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he takes any life.

“Yes, Saihara.” Kirigiri nodded. The grit in her tone was highlighted. “But if you think you can kill one of the security, that isn’t an option. If you do, then you will suffer their end as well.” 

Shuichi took another breath. Inhaling till he couldn’t, exhaling till he could feel the strain in his chest. “...So… Ah, I have to take a non-innocent life?” He croaked, his gun now fully aimed at Maki. 

“Yes.”

It stung. It stung so much. “And...And the others will be spared of any further consequence if I do?” 

“Yes, they will be let free.” She sighed, her heels clicked across the floor. They stopped when her gloved hand rested on his shoulder. “But do not pretend I didn’t hear you say ‘others’. You can not kill me either, Saihara.” 

The trembling in his fingers only worsened. He swallowed again, trying to swallow his internalized cries. Trying not to scream at her. The gun was pointed at Maki, those empty red eyes closed, waiting for the punishment. Another look at Kokichi and his eyes are glaring at him. Or, no, not him. The woman beside him.

“I’m sorry…” He breathed, fog curled around his vision, tears finally pricking his eyes. “...I’m so sorry.” 

Maki shook her head. “Don’t be.” 

He clenched his teeth, sucking in a now shaking breath. “...no, no not to you.” He exhaled stiffly, sweat rolled down his temple as he looked at Kokichi, whose life had so much value. Who strived to fix the world. Who needed the one family he had left. “I’m sorry…” He whispered, his fingers turned numb. Prickling with a lack of oxygen.

“...Shuichi,” Kokichi gritted, “Shuichi… don’t do it, don’t do it…” He’s begging, gasping as he does, his eyes still so angry, his breath still so shallow. The pain is still so present. 

“I’m sorry.” After that, he fell silent. Kirigiri hummed, satisfied with his conclusion to stop acting childish. As she’s remarked so many times before.

Shuichi swallowed roughly and closed his eyes. Maki didn’t deserve this. Kokichi didn’t deserve this. 

He thought of all the nights he slipped into a dark room, finding Kokichi’s hands just to dance with him. All the rare mornings he woke up to Kokichi kissing him. All secret moments he would rest his heavy head in the crook of his neck. How his warm palms always held his cold fingers. How his ears always got so red in the cold. How they used to stay up whispering words to one another, exchanging hot breath as they kissed. How his laugh used to make him laugh too. Shuichi thought of all the things he never got to say. The words he bit back. The things he regretted. But he remembered Kokichi’s real smile. How small, and how real it was. 

He savored that warmth that resonated in his chest. Leaving the most sorrowful smile on his lips as he jerked the gun back.

He turned the bullet on himself and fired. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the end from "And fired a bullet into his head" to "He turned the bullet on himself and fired." Just to make it clearer that Shuichi shot himself, and not Kokichi.


	3. #No.3 Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.3 Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint]**
> 
> -Zombie Apocalypse (There's a cure for bites in this au)  
> -Blood and Injury  
> -Bites/Dying
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

With a world broken and crumbling to its own creatures, anxiety peaks, air thins, and the rotting and decaying bodies of the dead roam, what little life the land holds becomes precious. 

Society itself festered and molded. The walks of many buildings became decrepit and unstable. The strong scent of musk and nauseating aroma soaked the air. Any living creatures who scoured amongst the builds wore a thick mask over their face. With the decomposing dead around, the epidemic grew worse. 

Kokichi did not grow up in the world the adults spoke fondly of. He never experienced a school where kids his age, both older and younger, gathered in one building. Nor had he experienced a store, with walls and rows lined with food. The thought of it made his near-empty stomach pinch in longing. 

The old world sounded so fun. Much more free than this one. Whereas now, venturing out of safe holds meant certain death. Common deaths were catching an unknown sickness to kill your family, die of infection with lack of medical supply, devoured by the monsters that roam around, or by your own hand. Succumbing to suicide as many do.

Kokichi’s family was gone when he turned 5. Taken by illness. The rest of the people in the area slowly succumbed to other deaths. Leaving him, and a few stranglers alone. Those stranglers became his family. He would protect them until his anticipated death.

That is until he was separated from them.

Kokichi jerked himself left as he bolted down an alleyway. His lungs squeezing, grasping at any air he dared pull in as he ran. One foot thumping in front of the other as sweat poured down his face, trickling down his back, and soaking through some of his worn and old clothes. The van behind him screeched to a halt before the ally. He heard the door crash open as angry voices thundered and yelled.

Unfortunately, some people make the world's destruction as an opportunity to claim it for themselves. And those who don’t surrender deserve to die, after all only the most loyal live in a ‘better world.’ 

He cut through a slim gap in a decaying wall. The men after him wouldn’t fit, they’d have to go around to the entrance. With little choice, he turned on his heel up the crumbling stairs. There were large breaches in the concrete, he stumbled, skinning his right knee on the broken cement. He inhaled sharply, yanking his collar over his nose as a most heinous scent rolled over the air.

He pushed for the next floor, and then the next. He must have cut a larger gap in his knee judging the amount of the blood running down his calf. It burned, but adrenaline carried him to the top floor. Breathing heavily, each exhale labored and weighty. But hearing the shout of the men didn’t allow him to stop.

He dashed down the halls of the floor, desperate for escape. The sweat burned along his forehead the more he realized he had run himself into a corner. The end of a maze with no exit. His chest ached from the thinned air he breathed, all roughly filtered through his shirt. 

He swallowed thickly. The thumping of his heart rang in his ears as he heard their feet echo down the halls he came from. Kokichi stared in near horror at the dead-end he stood before. Nothing but an old boarded window stared back, as if mocking his demise. 

The floor creaked beneath his feet, the walls beside him were crumbling and falling apart, he turned around ready to put on the worst fight of his life. With his knuckles bleeding from his last encounters, half his leg soaked with blood, breathing with half the oxygen reaching his mind, leaving his fingers numb.

_ “He’s down here,” _ He heard a voice boom. Kokichi was not one to go down without leaving them at least unhappy. So if he can’t make it out, then he’ll at least spit in their faces.

He could feel them drawing closer, their fast movement shaking the old floorboards, the bits of broken wall and glass trembled on the floor as they came closer. But before Kokichi could prepare himself for an untimely death, a hand clapped over his mouth, another shot around his arm, as he was jerked to the side.

The wall that had been crumbling had a gap large enough to fit him, but he had missed it before. A tarp, riddled in holds, dirt, and stains of blood, hung to obscured the rift in the wall. 

A muffled cry was pulled from his lips as he was shoved to the debris-filled room. Nails of his captor dug into his cheek, their arm around him jerked up to clasp around his shoulder, shoving him to his knees. Pain shot up his thigh and down his leg when his torn knee hit the floor. Another strangled yell writhed out of him, but it died when the stranger yanked their arm around his neck, Kokichi’s chin pressed into their elbow.

The hand left his mouth, but the click of the gun and the barrel against his temple stifled his cries of pain. He forgot about the strain of oxygen the more they squeezed his throat. He forgot about the burning in his leg as the cold metal met his head. The stranger pressed Kokichi against them, back to chest. 

Kokichi could feel their heart. It pounded as fast as his own. He couldn’t get a good look at them, but their identity was in bold when their breathless voice whispered into his ear. “Are you with me, or against?” 

Kokichi struggled to cough, his throat closing the more they tightened their arm. “...W-w…” He gasped, “... _ With _ . You… b-blind idiot,  _ God.”  _

Instantly, they released their grip. Kokichi tumbled to the floor, gasping for air, grasping at his throat as if it’d help. _ “Shh.” _ His company hissed, kneeling next to him. “...I’m really, really sorry, but please be quiet.” Kokichi rolled his eyes but choked down his strain. 

Shuichi stretched an arm around him, guiding him to sit up. He pressed him close, backing up away from the tarp, which seemed to be their only means of in or out. They watched, sweat running down their face, pressing their bangs to their forehead, as the shadows of men crossed the tarp. 

Their shadows were slanted, faint, but they watched as the faded silhouettes of their hunters growled and fumed. Kokichi clutched at Shuichi’s shirt, and Shuichi held tight, crushing the air from his short given breath. 

They waited till the shadows disappeared. They stayed frozen until the footsteps disappeared down the hall, down the stairs, then the next, and the next. Their movement resounded in the aging building, and even after it completely dissolved, they remained stiff and unmoving. 

What broke the silence was Kokichi’s trembling exhale as he dropped his head against Shuichi’s chest. His heart was still pounding, racing just like his own. Shuichi finally relieved his arms from around him. Replacing that hold with his hands resting over Kokichi’s upper arms. “...You’re shaking,” He breathed, his tone still hushed.

“... _ No, _ really?” He scoffed. He felt cold, but he knew it was the fear intoxicating him. “...and you're hideous as usual. See? Now we’ve both stated the obvious.” 

Shuichi sighed, and Kokichi couldn’t be happier to hear it. “...Is that what you want to say to me after all this time?” Shuichi’s voice was hushed for another reason now. Kokichi stared at his gentle eyes. 

“Depends.” 

“Mm, of course it does with you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Kokichi grimaced, he drew his injured knee closer to his chest. He pressed a hand against his wound. The cut split from the top of his knee, to just below the middle. The skin was ripped around the gash, with angry red blood soaking into his pant leg. “...I might greet you properly if you, ah,” he looked around the piles of debris. “...help me.” 

Shuichi nodded and pulled a small medkit from his coat pocket. He tended to the wound, soaking the blood into white cotton. Kokichi refused to let him wash the cut with his limited water, so he wrapped it best he could. “...Better?” he asked, ripping the ruined bloody pant leg from Kokichi’s clothes.

“...No.” He turned his head away. He and Shuichi got separated two weeks ago, along with the rest of their group. Now he’s here, he’s back beside him, his heart still beating, his hands still warm. “...I’m covered in muck, I haven’t slept in forever, and I have to suffer looking at you again.” He complained, half of it a lie, most of it true.

“That would make two of us, hm?” Shuichi chuckled, stretching his arm around him. 

Kokichi mustered up his best glare. “You think being with me is suffering?” He wanted to put on theatrics, but all he did was yawn. “...You’re so cruel to me.” 

He really liked hearing him chuckle. “We should break up then.” He leaned in closer, wearing a weary smile. “...Since I'm so abusive.” He kissed his cheek. Kokichi cringed, he was covered in soot and grime. He can’t imagine Shuichi liked that, but he’s smiling nonetheless.

Kokichi hated the sigh that came out his nose. He leaned in, closer to him, closer to his lips. Because it’s the only sensation that’s kind. The only touch that won’t sting, that won’t hurt. “...Yeah, we should.” He whispered he reached his arms up to drape them lazily around his neck. 

“No, but…” Shuichi frowned, freely letting Kokichi plant light kisses along his neck, savoring the sensation of his warm skin against his lips. Regardless of foul scent or taste. Kokichi circled his fingers around the bloodstained patch on Shuichi’s neck. He felt the hitch in his breath, how his heart picked up.

“Shh,” Kokichi hushed, closing his eyes. The cold draft breezed through them, making them shiver. But Shuichi kept shaking. And shaking, and trembling, until tears were falling down his face, and he dropped his head against Kokichi’s shoulder. “...I know already, Shuichi, I know…” 

Being bitten from the walking dead caused long agonizing deaths. Slowly rotting, without salvation. There was a cure, but you had to get it before your body started decomposing. Kokichi cupped his pain riddled face. “...It’s okay, I know what to do... how long has it been?”

Shuichi swallowed nervously. His anxiety boiled his blood to jerky nerves and short breath. "...14 hours, almost," He breathed. Kokichi nodded. By the time 24 hours is up, Shuichi would have to be killed, but Kokichi will find the antidote. Even if it kills him. 

It pained him to get up again, leaving Shuichi here alone. Where he realized, Shuichi came to die here. "...Stay alive," He hissed, the orchestra of ache played in his chest as he held his face, his dirt-covered fingers running over his cheeks. "...I'll be back in no time, Kay?" He pressed a short kiss to his lips before getting up. 

He limped out, the pain in his knee growing by the minute. But he'll get the antidote. He must. He will.

Even if it killed him.


	4. #No.4 Caged | Collapsing Building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.4 Caged | Collapsing Building]**
> 
> -Post Game  
> -Ghost Character  
> -Destruction  
> -Canonically Dead Character
> 
> **Read at your Own Decretion**

Kokichi strained his neck to look at the cage shape of the school. He squinted in the rays pouring through the bars. It seemed like a lie to him. This whole cage did. The moment he breathed in the crisp morning air in this prison, he knew it wasn’t what they said it was.

He can’t imagine that a cage as large as this sits on the face of the earth. It seemed as though their imprisonment was obvious, and anyone looking for them would suspect they were trapped here. It was too easy. Which, he then assumed, anyone who saw the cage wanted them in it. 

He puttered out an achy breath. He sat among the debris, perched on top of a large pile. Looking out onto the graveyard of buildings and rubble. He still suffered from the pressure on his chest. The pain of his last moments felt ever so present. And he won’t lie, he sat among the fallen corpse of this prison a long time. Wishing he was alive. 

“Kokichi.” He turned his head downward, looking at a boy sitting on some rocks below him. Shuichi’s clothes were peppered in the dirt. Light red stains dotted his knees, and his face was pale with grief. “...what was it all worth?” 

_Nothing,_ Kokichi wants to say. He looked over at Maki and Himiko leaning against one another. Himiko’s knuckles were scratched, and a cut sat under her eye. One drip of blood trailed down her cheek, but it was muddled with the tears she cried. Now, she found little comfort in sleeping against Maki. 

The taller girl had her arm around her. Those red eyes blank with pain. Staring off into a world that wasn’t of this one. She looked dead even, her complexion was just as ill-looking. Just as scuffed up as they all were. Dirty and filthy, having survived the killing game.

Shuichi sat away from them. His head bowed, shoulders hunched, he spent the last hour trying to swallow sobs and his cries, trying not to mourn over the people he wanted to desperately keep close. 

“I wouldn’t dwell on it.” Kokichi offered, sliding down from his peak. He kneeled down beside Shuichi, putting a hand on his back. “...You’ll only break down.” He knows he can’t be heard. But he said it anyway because Shuichi’s not the only one who wants something he can’t have.

Shuichi scrubbed his knuckles in his worn and bloodshot eyes. An angry red rash was forming under his hues. Strained and ground down to near nothing. “...I want to see you again, Kokichi…” He croaked, his voice was incredibly hoarse as if he spoke through prickers and clenching jaws. 

“...You’ll see me.” He hummed, smiling as he looked at his pained expression. “...In the next few days this will all be but a nightmare,” Kokichi promised, looking up to the sun streaming through the gap Kiibo gave them. “...And I, hopefully, will be that sweet dream you crave to visit every night,” 

He wedged his arms around Shuichi. Though Kokichi felt no sensations and Shuichi gained no warmth, Kokichi brought his lips close to his ear, smiling because at least now he can tell the truth. 

“...have sweet dreams, Shuichi, I’ll be waiting to see you again too.” 


	5. #No.5 On The Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.5 On The Run | Failed Escape | Rescue]**
> 
> -Deliberate Misgendering  
> -Transphobia  
> -Emotional Abuse  
> -Unhealthy Binding 
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This #No.5 prompt was taken in a different sense. Where Shuichi's home is his prison, and he's failing to escape it, and he's on the run from a punishment he doesn't deserve.

He slid his slim fingers around his torso. Trailing his hand up over his chest. He stood tall, trying to hold his chin up with pride. Yet the mirror only reflected his expression, those pained and hurt stained eyes bled over his image.  _ Selfish _ , he hissed to himself,  _ constantly selfish. _

“Take that off.” She had hissed, her authoritative glare flickered over his chest, “You aren’t going to the party looking like, like…” Her expression twisted into a shade of disgust and hesitation. As if scared to describe him, scared to touch him. “...Like _ that.” _

He rubbed at his eyes, his cheeks fading to red the more he sucked in his breath to not cry. He slipped the bandages from his chest, hesitating, but grabbing the bra back and sliding it on. He refused to look at his reflection again. Because it hurt. No matter what he did, it hurt. Physically it pained him, emotionally it corrupted him.

The dress he pulled on adorned his body in a mismatching way. His mother would always say it flattered him, her cold dainty fingers would travel to his lower back to grab the zipper and work it up to his shoulder blades. Soon curling the fabric around his waist, pulling tight to praise his shape. Pronouncing his curves in a slim dress. 

He felt stiff walking out of the bathroom. Presenting himself to his mother, who smiled and carelessly reached up to pull his hair from the braids he tightly wove together to press against his scalp. She let it tumble over his shoulders, speaking lightly of jewel pins and fake flowers, ignoring his face of discomfort, glossing over the tears in his eyes.

They would flaunt the empty shell of a daughter they never had at parties. Encouraging him to chat with the daughters of fellow families, dance with the men he cares nothing for, and speak with the lightness of a girl.

Awkwardness would erode him. Suffocation in his body choked his words and snuffed out the best of his positivity. When they returned from a nightly outing, they'd chastise him on how to be more social. And when the next day washed over, he’d wake up for school, dress in the skirt that makes him cringe. And go to school with his head down, and his lips pressed together. 

He never could bring himself to fight back. He’d push once in a while but would get yelled at ten times louder than he would speak. Some days he finds small escapes. He would pack clothes he likes, and disappear into the men’s bathrooms after school. 

Just to feel right for a moment. To breathe through bound lungs. Even if it hurt, he would feel like himself, for one stolen minute, one forbidden and wrong moment. 

In the bathrooms of the men's room, he looked in the mirror. His hair tucked into his cap, his chest flatter, his clothes no longer causing him discomfort. And for a moment, he allowed him to smile at it, at himself. Before he had to take it all away again. 

“You look better when you aren’t lying.” 

He jumped at the sound. His stomach dropped as he jerked his head to the entrances. “I-I’m sorry?” 

Kokichi stood in the entrance to the bathroom, his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed with a mix of amusement, but seriousness in the way he stared. “You heard me.” He crossed the filth covered floor to stand beside him. “You’re not a liar,” He said, gazing at his reflection, “A shame you proceed to be one.” 

His tongue felt dry and heavy. Kokichi was in most of his classes, they spoke sometimes, but not often. “I-I’m not sure...what you mean.” 

Kokichi laughed, “Yes you do.” He poked his shoulder, smirking. “Can’t lie to a liar, now can you?” He tilted his head, his grin fading as fast as it came. His demeanor changed to where even his eyes no longer appeared bright. “...If you don’t mind me asking,” He looked into his eyes, what filled them now was sincerity. “What’s your real name? If you decided on one, that is.”

Shocked by his question, he took a step back. He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking. “...I-I like to call myself Shuichi,” He whispered, his shy eyes flicking to Kokichi’s, and then to the floor. “...But my mother says that my uncle is rubbing off on me.” 

The other hummed. “Filling your head with delusions?”

“...yeah.”

“Well, your mom is soo right.” Kokichi popped himself on the edge of the sink, swinging his legs as he looked down at Shuichi. “Your uncle is absolutely insane for letting you be who you are, I mean, what abusive, crazy man would do that to you?” He rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Thank  _ goodness _ you listen to your mom. I bet you feel so much better being her puppet.” 

The sarcasm that dripped from his tone was obvious. Shuichi opened his mouth to defend his reasons, but he only had one, and it was his fear. “...She yells at me if I do anything otherwise, I-I’m… I’m lying to avoid punishment, Kokichi.” 

“Mm. You’re imprisoned then?” 

Shuichi looked away as the tears began to bubble up. “...I don’t… I don’t want to be.” 

“I can’t imagine you would.” 

Anger stirred in his chest. Kokichi acted so lackadaisical, so careless. As if he could barge into his home the way he wants to. Without being screamed at, without his mother sobbing, saying she raised him wrong, and how an awful mother she’d been. How Shuichi is so selfish to grab what he craves, carelessly sacrificing his mother's happiness.

“Not like you understand anyway.” Shuichi spat, angrily rubbing at his eyes and picking up his bag to change back to what he wasn’t. He closed the stall behind him, undoing his shirt buttons as his hands shook with frustration. “It’s so easy for you to tell me to just _be me_ ,” His voice grew wobbly but hard with bitten rage. “You don’t know what it’s like to feel the way I do,  _ you just don’t.”  _

He shook his shirt off and grabbed the end of the bandage to undo it. Quickly, so he would get it over with and leave. 

“Shuichi.”

He breathed out of sharp breath, pausing when he heard Kokichi’s voice sound so  _ grave.  _ His tone was earnest and solemn. Shuichi looked down to see the tips of his shoes from the gap under the stall door.

“I do understand.” He said hushedly, “I do.” 

Shuichi could still feel his hands shaking, “...Then you would know,” He muttered wearily, “...how hard it is.” 

Kokichi sighed. “Yeah. I also know how good it feels to not be imprisoned anymore. I wouldn’t advise you to trust me, but I really like that stupid smile you had when you are yourself, Shuichi.” 

A thrill of happiness warmed his chest at the sound of his name. It was settling and felt right. He sighed, the emotions in his mind clashing, confused between anger and relief. He finished dressing and opened the door. “...I’ll think about it.” He said, meeting Kokichi’s eyes. He slung his bag over his shoulder. “...but, thank you, for, um…”

“Nothing,” Kokichi smiled, “I didn’t do anything at all.” He winked and waved as he left for the exit. “See you in homeroom tomorrow Shuichi!” The door closed behind him. 

Shuichi exhaled, he felt as though a small weight had lifted off of him. Small, because compared to his captors he had so much to deal with. But in this small, and cherished way, he felt a little better. 

The door opened again, Shuichi looked up and saw Kokichi peeking in. “By the way,” He began, looking just as considerate, “Want me to call you Shuichi in front of everyone tomorrow?” 

Shuichi chuckled. “Maybe just when we’re alone, for now, kay?” 

“Okie Doke!” 

Shuichi wouldn’t know it, but it was one step closer to escaping his home. Soon, he'll be rescued from the protective veil of lies and deceit. 

Thanks to Kokichi. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to end this one on a better note. My prayers go out to those who struggle with suffocating parents. 
> 
> Also please bind safely! Shuichi used harmful binding because his parents wouldn't allow him to buy a proper binder! (Which is no excuse, I simply used it for whumping purposes)


	6. #No.6 “Get it Out” |  No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.6 “Get it Out” | No More]**
> 
> -Anaphylactic Shock  
> -Severe Allergic Reaction  
> -Implied Hospital Trip  
> -Bee Stings
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, bee stings, the worst whump there is.

“I didn’t know you were allergic to honey bees.” 

Shuichi grabbed a cold compress, returning to his boyfriend's side. Kokichi sat on the couch, his face red from discomfort and dizziness. “...Surprise,” He muttered, glaring at the swelling welt on his forearm. The puffiness traveled up and down his arm, his fingers were stiff, welling up so much that he couldn’t move his joints.

Kokichi truly wanted to curl up and disappear. His body felt stiff and numb. His swelling fingers had lost sensation, his tongue felt like rubber in his mouth, and the irritation over his sensitive and hive broken skin was next to unbearable. 

They sat in Gonta’s home, just visiting to see the new beehive he recently got. Unfortunately, Kokichi failed to tell anyone he was allergic to a sting. “Just get it out,” Kokichi complained, wheezing as he stared at the small protrusion of the bee’s stinger out of his arm. It itched like mad. Kokichi gnawed at his fingernails as he bit back the urge to scratch his skin raw.

“I’m getting to it,” Shuichi sighed, taking the slim pliers Gonta offered to wedge the metal sides of it into Kokichi’s red and sensitive skin. He breathed in sharply, heat swirled in his mind as his throat felt thicker and thicker. Shuichi pulled the stinger out with ease, “Gonta should be back any minute,”

“Oh joy.” Kokichi murmured. Shuichi reached a hand up to brush his hair back from another welt. The swelling over his neck was redder than his arm. He picked up the pliers and carefully grabbed the notch of the stinger and pulled. Kokichi tried not to fidget, but the air seemed to get hotter and thinner. 

“Are you having trouble breathing?” He asked worriedly, setting the second stinger on a napkin. Kokichi grimaced and nodded. 

“...I’m fine though,” He lied. His chest was heavy with each inhales, and his throat was working its way to closing up. Gonta left to grab his EpiPen at home. Shuichi could have left to get it, but Kokichi threw a hissy fit to have him beside him. Mainly because if he left Gonta to do stinger-removal, he’d get an ear-full of lengthy apologies. 

Shuichi winced. That twisted expression made Kokichi roll his eyes. He’s irked, and pained. Shuichi seeing through his blatant lie doesn’t help his mood. Kokichi glared at him, his souring mood depleting faster than his patience, “It’s not bad enough for a hospital trip.” He stated. _Yes, it is._

The door opened and a hurried footfall thumped down the hall. Gonta came bursting into the living room looking terribly concerned. His eyes were welled up in tears and his cheeks were red from the hurry. “Gonta got the EpiPen,” He announced, his big hands shaking as Kokichi used his non-swollen hand to take it from him.

Kokichi meant to thank him, but the words stayed in his throat. He pulled off the safety and pressed the orange tip hard against his outer thigh. Epipens are uncomfortable, the needle that comes from the tip is horrifyingly long and thick, but looks are deceiving because he hardly felt it. 

He exhaled, the epinephrine injection almost instantly cleared up his throat and alleviated the weight on his chest. Gonta looked at him anxiously, “Will Kokichi be okay?” 

Shuichi caught Kokichi’s eyes of annoyance and chuckled. “He might be completely fine after a hospital trip.” 

“I’m fine!” He denied, but he still felt swamped with dizziness. 

“You had an anaphylaxis reaction, EpiPens are not cures.” 

Kokichi’s head was still spinning. “...Fine. whatever. But I can’t walk straight.” Shuichi reassured him that he didn’t have to get up. And that he would call an ambulance if he was feeling severely light-headed. Which, he was. Shuichi knew the procedure as good as he did, both of them had a list of allergies they had to keep on top of.

With Kokichi he was more insect and animal sensitive, and Shuichi had a strict diet of things that wouldn’t kill him. Often he’d joke that natural selection was out to get them, because it seemed impossible that people could live walking around on their toes, trying to avoid an anaphylactic shock at every turn. 

“Better me than you,” He whispered to Shuichi as the paramedics arrived. Shuichi’s anxiety tends to worsen his vulnerable state, at least Kokichi enjoys ambulance rides. 

“See you soon,” He said back, ignoring his comment. He pressed a kiss to his overly warm forehead, giving his unswollen hand a squeeze before leaving his side. Gonta had brought him a stuffed bee plushie as Kokichi was secured on a stretcher. Claiming the bee says sorry too. 

The next day he was marginally okay. But he swears he’s never going to visit Gonta’s bee family ever again. He wholeheartedly agreed as Shuichi said, “No more bees for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this based on my family's description of their hospital trips due to bee stings to make it as realistic as I can.


	7. #No.7 Support | Enemy to Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.7 Support | Enemy to Caretaker]**
> 
> -Physical Abuse  
> -Abusive Parent  
> -Bruises  
> -Bullying
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi is in an abusive home and switches to Shuichi's care.

“Why are you so insensitive?” 

One of the girls in his classroom had her hand on his desk, the other on her hip. Her eyes were pinched in disapproval and suffered a heavy loss of respect. Her expression wasn’t made up of ill-intended humor, rather hurt in a defensive way. Kokichi wore an empty stare, a lazy, and careless grin over his lips. 

“Why are you so nosy?” 

She sighed, frustrated. The stress created lines in her forehead, and her jaw looked tense by the way she clenched her teeth. “Nevermind.” She lifted her hands up in defeat. “You obviously don’t care to be a decent person.” She turned, her hands coiled in angry fists. Kokichi watched her walk down the empty rows of desks, redirecting her attention to the girl by the door with her head in her hands. 

He watched with little interest as the taller girl comforted her, or at least tried. Kokichi had looked at her two minutes ago and said the make-up she wore made her look desperate. He said it with a biting laugh, he commented on how she’ll be the next tryhard of the school. 

Of course, her eyes welled up with tears. He thought it was funny, not because she started crying, but because her mascara started running down her cheeks. 

He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The school day was over, and he had to procrastinate his walk home. No time to worry about the girl who had skin as thin as tissue paper. 

Before he could leave, however, He stopped before someone who blocked the door. Kokichi looked up at his new judge. Because that's all they did, they judged him. He could hear it now,  _ how could you do that? Why would you be so mean? You’re a cruel person. You have no heart.  _

“Did you have to make fun of her?” 

Kokichi looked up to meet their eyes. “I don’t know, Shuichi, did you have to ask me that question?”    
  


His amber eyes didn’t look as disgusted as that girl had been. Instead, they appeared curious, hurt in an empathetic way, but understanding in a way Kokichi didn’t like. As if he could understand. “I suppose not, but I wanted to.” He tilted his head, still standing in the doorway, trapping Kokichi in this room. “Do you want to answer?” 

Kokichi chuckled, whether it bloomed from his discomfort or low sense of humor, he didn’t know. “I just wanted to.” He smirked, “It’s funny.”

“Making a girl cry?” 

“Yep, hilarious.” 

Shuichi cast his look down. Kokichi chuckled again, he knew that look. Many people wear it when they run into walls talking to him. Or when Kokichi brings it in circles until they’re dizzy and can’t bear it any longer. Shuichi sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t believe you think that, but you don’t seem to want to tell me.”

He stepped aside, leaving the doorway empty. “See you next week?” Shuichi’s grip on his bag was tight, his fingers curled into the material in a pensive, or defeated way. Kokichi looked from his grip to his eyes. They looked sad now. 

“Maybe.” He said lightly, he sounded careless and negligent. He turned and left, leaving behind any feelings that exchange made him feel. He disliked how Shuichi could drop something so easily. It’s not funny. It’s boring. 

Kokichi gnawed on his fingers until the roots of his nails started beading up with drops of blood. He only sucked at the tips of his fingers until he arrived at his house. It’s a moderately sized house, two floors, small rooms, enough space for him and his parents. 

The front yard is just grass, a couple of dying patches in the corners and middle. The fence is broken in certain parts at the bottom, and the gate has rusty hinges that don’t work anymore. So it’s left open. He walked up to his door and twisted the knob slowly, fortunately, his door is silent when it swings open.

Kokichi closed it behind him, and already the hairs are standing on the back of his neck. 

He won’t sugar coat it, he hates being here. Because his father is prone to violent outbursts.

In most stories, or at least stories that were written by those his age, abusive homes are chaotic and suffocating. Where the father figure is a drunken man with a bottle in hand and wearing clothes that reek of alcohol and pungent cigarette smoke. Where the mother is a woman who wraps men around their finger, neglecting their child because they don’t care. Or there is screaming from sun up to sundown.

He won’t speak for others, but that’s not how his life is twisted. His father looks perfectly sane, he dresses in clean clothes, he doesn’t break windows or tear doors off their hinges, it’s his silence that chokes the conversation out of a room. 

Kokichi might be sitting at the dinner table, his fork scraping against the bottom of his plate, the silence chalking up the air hanging between them. His father would be sitting and chatting lightly with his mother, his mother would avert her eyes and speak quietly. It’s not until Kokichi cracks a joke that his hand would strike him.

_ “Don’t ever say that again.” _ He’d demand, and Kokichi would snap his jaw shut. Resisting the urge to rub at his throbbing cheek that burned with the mark of his hand. He’ll sit there, watching the conversation carry on, strained, choked, but there. Kokichi would always lower his head, feeling sick, feeling stamped out. 

If he plucks the last fruit from the basket his wrist is grabbed. It’s silent, always silent, standing beside his father at the counter. He says nothing to him, and the air is calm until he grabs his slim and bony wrist. Squeezing so tight that his fingers turn blue. Kokichi would freeze, his mouth open in fear, but he can’t say anything.

Breathing in this house is suffocating. He feels vulnerable, a bare feeling piercing his back, burning holes into his head. Words spoken by his parents become muddled and sticky. Being near them burns his skin like pouring scalding water over his body. 

“So you’re home today?” 

His chest ached at the sound of her voice. Kokichi stared into the kitchen where his mother seemed to be cleaning. Nervously cleaning. She was wiping at the table that was already slick with cleanliness. “Yeah.” He leaves it at that and turns upstairs. She doesn’t care anyway. If she did she never showed it.

The rules of his house are silent. Be quiet, don't speak loudly, don't sing, don’t hum, don’t chew obnoxiously. Unless you want boiling eyes of bloody rage upon you. Unless you want strong and suffocating hands pounding against your skin. Unless you want your ear shattered from the continued screaming, stay quiet, stay silent. It benefits everyone. 

He knew his father had mental issues. Sensitivity issues. It’s no excuse, but they can’t do anything about it. Anything could set him off, anything could trigger his fits of long-lasting anger that resulted in his Kokichi’s complexion peppered in dark decorations.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t laugh.

And for the love of all that is good, he doesn’t cry.

…

“Kokichi?”

Shuichi stood beside his desk. Like the girl had before the weekend began. Except his hands are by his side, completely neutral. Kokichi had his head on the table, his arms splayed on the desk lazily. His chest ached, with every inhale came a sharp sting to the bruises peppered over his ribs. He only carried one bruise at the corner of his eye beside the bridge of his nose.

When he didn’t respond, Shuichi bent down to get level with his eyes. Kokichi still had his head covered with his achy arms. The same arms that floundered to protect his head from sustaining anymore blows. He was too loud, he played music too loud. And when he was sought after, he shook too much.

“...Hey,” Shuichi spoke gently, “...You alright?” The classroom was empty. Everyone had left, and Kokichi just wanted a few minutes to himself. But Shuichi just had to stop by and check-in. Kokichi figured if he ignored him long enough, he’d give up and leave. 

But he didn’t leave. When he seemed to get too uncomfortable bent at his height, he pulled over a chair, and set it next to his desk. Kokichi heard him sigh, he sounded content. Irking Kokichi in a way he couldn't describe. Shuichi sat down and put his head in one hand, while the other touched his shoulder. 

“...tough weekend?” He asked softly. He kept persisting in the kindest tone. He didn’t sound angry, despite his silence. He sounded patient and understanding. 

Kokichi’s fingers curled into fists. “...maybe.” 

Shuichi hummed, circling his fingers lightly over his shoulder. He hardly applied any pressure. It was just a comforting gesture. Kokichi wanted to brush off his hand, but he liked it. In a small reassuring way. He liked his company. 

He asked a few more soft-spoken questions. Things like if he was upset, if he needed anything, at one point he got up only to come back with an ice pack. Kokichi glared at him, but when he didn’t back down, he took the ice pack and pressed it against his throbbing eye. The cold compress felt nice, and he thanked him. Quietly, but he did.

“Want to come over to my house?” Shuichi asked. Kokichi gave him a long look. His intentions seemed completely innocent. He considered how angry his father would be for not coming home, but that twisted part of him found it funny. His mother’s never home on the weekdays, so he’d blow all the steam he wants. Alone.

“Sure.” He muttered as he rubbed his swollen eye. “...but only because I don’t want to go home.”

Shuichi smiled. “Of course.” 

They sat there for a while. This time talking a bit more. Kokichi didn’t tell him what was going on, nor did Shuichi ask. They had a short conversation, but it was nice. After, Kokichi followed him home and slept on a pullout bed in his room. It was… nice. That’s all Kokichi could ever describe it as. Shuichi was nice. So very nice to him.

He picked on kids less after Shuichi made an effort to talk to him every day. It didn’t happen immediately, but over time Kokichi pulled back from loud teasing and harmful jokes. Instead, he talked with Shuichi. He slept at his house more often, and it was a very nice friendship. Because that's all it was in high school. They were just friends.

That would change when they got older, but now, they were friends. Very, very good friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being in an emotionally and physically abusive situation sucks.
> 
> I don't typically like to end these kinds of stories in too bad of a whump slump. Since lots of people are going through it/have gone through it (me included) and I don't want it to appear like it's hopeless to those who are currently enduring it.


	8. #No.8 “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.8 “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation]**
> 
> -Loneliness  
> -Mentions of Cancer  
> -Neglect
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song "All I Want" (by Kodaline) Goes perfectly with this.

Isolation is quiet, sometimes lovely in its own way, but heavy on the heart once it goes on for far, far too long.

He glided his finger down a curved slick petal. The flowers he took care of, all in the absence of his guardians, bloomed in full this month. This flower had delicate and soft petals. Sprouting upward and curving with the tips falling down to point to the floor. Water droplets rolled down the thin corolla, falling to the wooden desk the potted flower sat on.

The small shop smelled sweet this morning. Unlike some days where the dirt is too pungent for his liking, or the fertilizer is more pronounced than usual. Today, the fragrance from the flowers washed the air in a pleasant scent. It’s his little joys he finds, while all alone in this empty shop. 

He’s always alone.

Shuichi lived in an old, rural town. It had its own charm to it, how rice fields would roll over the hills. How the plants would tumble in the wind as it would blow across the valley. He’s fortunate enough to be granted a view of the hills, with the farmhouse a small structure in the far distance. 

Houses were spread over in sporadic and unpatterned ways. Some people lived on hills, others lived in the woods where there's always leaves on the ground both fresh and old. A majority of the inhabitants here are middle-aged, or very old. Young adults like him already moved away, craving something over than the stillness of an uneventful town.

It’s why his parents left overseas. It’s why his Uncle moved to the grandest city in their country. Most of his high school friends are gone, moving to famous colleges, marrying young, and starting a family in a lively town far from here. Others had talents they wanted to sharpen, while some stayed. But he didn’t know them.

All he was left was a small flower shop his mother used to own. He lived upstairs, which was cramped and small. It was an attic, or, used to be. He cultivated it into a bedroom after his Uncle left. There was a small kitchen in the back of the shop and a bathroom. A long time ago it used to be a house, but the front was made into a flower shop.

He waters the plants every day, some need water every few days, others need an ice cube every week. The colors he kept alive were the last things he enjoyed. He religiously planted more flowers every season and kept some to himself during long winters. 

He made enough money to keep himself fed, and well. Though some mornings his cupboards will be empty, and he’ll cut his most beautiful flowers to walk the mile-long dirt road and give them to his neighbor. They were old, and always gave him a warm meal when he brought flowers over.

Some days are hard. Shuichi will sit up in bed, staring at the aging walls around him, wondering if his parents will ever visit. Or if his uncle would ever write to him. His friends that moved away sent pictures from time to time, but recently, they stopped replying to his letters.

He’s lonely. He feels it is his heart, how it caves every time it crosses his mind, how he’s aching for someone to talk to. Someone to spend time with him. Shuichi began spending too much time gazing hollowly. When he’s trimming the stems on flowers, his mind will empty and darken. His eyes will fade to void when he sits on the porch outback. 

His family left him behind. Every day that fact grows bolder. It weighs on his shoulders, and on his neck, making his head hang, and his posture sink. They abandoned him without thought. Without notice. Leaving him nothing, but the small joys encased in a flower shop.

One morning the rain was pouring hard. Shuichi pushed a bucket under the leak in the corner of his room, trying to prevent mold the best he could. The air was hot and sticky. It was the time of year where the weather was sweltering, and the clouds sent down their haul of rain, upheaving the downpours to alleviate the humidity. 

He pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. No one ever comes when the rain is this bad, thundering over his roof, echoing in his home like a chorus of irritated cats chirping at their prey. The continuous rattling resounded from the front, the rain pummeling the gutter endlessly. He cracked open the door, a gush of wind showering him in a mist of water as he grabbed the rain-filled watering can from outside.

Shuichi sighed, shivering with a slight chill as he knelt down to water his plants. He knew how much each needed, he had books he poured into about agriculture and flowers. It’s the only thing he can get lost in. 

He flinched when a loud knock at the door thundered over the rain. He looked up to see the silhouette of a figure behind the glass door. He set down the watering can and stood up. He doesn’t look presentable for any customers, but the old folks who came by knew it was his living space as much as it was his shop.

He cracked open the door, and before him stood a young man, drenched from head to toe in rainwater. “Oh thank god,” He exhaled, his violet eyes lighting up with relief, “Someone still lives in this empty town.” Before Shuichi could invite him in, the boy stepped inside without hesitation. 

“Hello to you too,” Shuichi muttered, closing the door behind him with a shove. 

He stared at the boy who at least took off his mud-covered shoes at the door. It didn’t stop him from tracking in water as he walked into the shop. “So this is what you ended up doing?” He asked, looking up at the plants hanging from the ceiling. Their long green vines draped over the sides, the boy reached up and twirled a vine around his fingers. “...It’s just how I remember.” 

Shuichi eyed him. His wet hair was nearly black, his bangs pressed to his forehead, other strands hung past his chin. “I’m… sorry, but do I know you?” 

The boy paused, then turned his head to gaze at Shuichi. “Ah…” he smiled softly, his fingers knitted together in front of him, “Has it been that long? That you could forget me?” He chuckled, breaking his fingers apart to fold his arms around him. The rain still poured outside, and the longer the boy stood there, the puddle at his feet grew. 

Shuichi looked at his wood floor where the boy's wet feet left imprints on his floor. “I’m going to get you a towel.” He said, walking past him into his backroom, where his towels were in a neat stack next to the heater. 

“Oh, how nice of you! But are you sure you don’t remember me?” The boy followed him and took the towel Shuichi handed him. He wrapped it around himself, the edge draped over his wet hair and hung over his shoulders. 

“No, I don’t,” Shuichi said, then paused. “...If you say your name I might. It’s been so long since anyone's come here.” Anyone his age, that is. 

The young man cleared his throat. Then grasped the edges of the towel and wore it like a cape. “I am the one and only Kokichi Ouma!” He bowed and looked up, meeting Shuichi’s blank stare. “The mighty and magnificent?” He tried, Shuichi only titled his head. “The leader of ten thousand people?” He drew closer to him. “C’mon Shuichi, I’m unforgettable!”

“...and yet I’ve forgotten…” Shuichi muttered, putting a hand to his lips. “Oh, wait,” He looked down at Kokichi. His wide bright eyes reflected the dim light on his ceiling. “...The kid who had cancer?” 

Kokichi dropped his arms. “Like, 5 years ago, but that title works too I guess.” His demeanor seemed dampened. Shuichi winced, perhaps that's not a title that he's very proud of.

“You…” He started, “...You used to play games with me in middle school. And steal flowers from the shop.”

“Yep! That’s me!” Kokichi smiled brightly. “Between hospital visits, you were always my favorite play-friend.” He wandered a hand around a Morning Glory. Touching the delicate and thin petals curiously. “...Though I lost touch after high school. Thought I’d pop in to see who survived and I’m happy to see you.” His smile withered, “...It’s sad how your memory fails you.” 

Kokichi lost his grin as he gazed at the flowers that lined the desk Shuichi normally accepted payment at. “...It would have been fun to reflect on our boring childhood, but I see it’s something you pushed out of your mind.” He rubbed his wet hair to get rid of the water soaking it. “I’ll get out of your hair after I’m dried off. I only came to see you, after all.” 

Shuichi stood in silence as Kokichi rubbed his clothes dry the best he could. The shock of him being here, looking alive and healthy, shocked him. When they were kids, Kokichi always left for long periods of time. His complexion would always look so pale. And he would wear lots of colorful and fun looking hats. Shuichi never knew why though. 

He remembered they would always play in the creek when he did come back. Shuichi remembered holding his hand when they walked along the edge, hopping rock to rock together. The memory of lying on his bedroom floor, a textbook on his stomach, as Kokichi tried to balance a pencil on his nose, came to mind. He hardly recognized him. His face didn’t look so childish anymore. His hair grew out, his eyes were slimmer and less wide. His nose wasn’t so small, and his jawline was more pronounced. He looked like a handsome young man, rather than childlike as Shuichi remembered. 

“D-..” Shuichi looked at Kokichi, excitement growing inside him. “D-Do you want some tea?” 

Joy filled those violet eyes. “I’d love to share some tea with you, Shuichi.” 

They spent hours together after that. Shuichi let him borrow some of his clothes so he wouldn’t be in damp clothes the whole visit. Kokichi chatted about how his life had been overall pretty boring. Shuichi agreed and admitted to being so lonely for the past couple of years, ever since his family left him.

The visit stretched on for a long time, the rain poured for just as long. Kokichi stayed for lunch, while Shuichi apologized for not having much. It was just bread and soup, but Kokichi ate it like he hadn’t eaten all day. The sun traveled across the sky, hidden by clouds until it began to set in the horizon. 

The shop fell dim with nighttime. Kokichi’s clothes had spent its time drying on the heater, and by the time he helped Shuichi finish watering all his plants, he changed back into them and stood by the door. Wearing Shuichi's old raincoat, the one that no longer fits him. 

“Mind if I tell you something, Shuichi?” Kokichi said, his hand tentatively on the door handle. Shuichi stood beside him, looking sad. He didn’t want his only company to leave, especially when that company was Kokichi. “...Something I never told you in high school?”

He looked at him serenely, his eyes half-lidded, and a rare smile over his lips. “What is it?” 

Kokichi dropped his hand from the handle. His eyes appeared soft when they looked up at Shuichi. The smallest smile picked up his lips. “...Thank you,” He took Shuichi’s hand, squeezing his cold fingers as he tilted his head and kissed his cheek. “...For giving my life something to fight for,” 

When Kokichi left, Shuichi’s palm still felt warm, and his cheeks even warmer. 

Whether Kokichi planned on coming back, Shuichi didn’t know, but he’d wait for him. Every day he’d wait for him to knock on his door again. 

“Please don’t let that be a goodbye.” He whispered as the darkness filled the shop, only lit by the dying light on his ceiling. 

_“Please.”_


	9. #No.9 “Take me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.9 “Take me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice]**
> 
> -Death by Fire  
> -Self Sacrifice  
> -Mentions of Torture
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

The fire smoke smelled like crisp cedarwood. The logs crackled and hissed as the flames licked up the sides, reaching upward to claim the fresh wood as its own. The coals beneath it resonated with glow, orange and yellow brightness burning hotter than the fire itself. He gazed at the inferno, as foreign hands jerked his wrists together behind his back.

He won’t deny that his hands trembled. His face was pale with fear, struck with the undeniable fact he will be burned. He shuddered as he let his mind wander, indulging into morbid thought as he pictured his flesh burning on the coals. Blood boiling, hair singeing, skin curdling, life whisked away after agonizing torture.

Dying by fire is the worst death he can imagine. Death is not instant. Victims will scream endlessly until pain attacks the body too violently that they lose their voice and fall limp, but not dead. Death comes after the screams die, death comes after the body stops fighting, death is slow, and takes the last breath like a flickering flame. 

Shuichi spent weeks in the cold darkness of a cell. His feet frozen and numb, his fingers turning blue, shivering in the frigid air that would worsen by nightfall. He survived, starving, grasping at the food scraps they would slide in on a tray. His teeth ached from clenching his jaw, chattering, and biting away at the stale bread. 

Witchcraft is illegal. Yet he was stupid enough to practice it. Foolish enough to be engrossed by the beauty of it. Allowing his soul to partake in unnatural occurrences, magic is what they called it, but to him, it was no magic. It was a spirit. It was another form of life.

These people, those who inhabited the kingdom, lived in fear of that life. So in a clash of panic, they condemned it. Choosing murder over peace. 

“Scared?” One man hissed, a cruel smile on his lips as he said it. Shuichi would be one of the youngest ever executed. Yet this man had no qualms against torturing a young soul, who only lived in curiosity and innocence.

“...Yes,” Shuichi whispered. Though his eyes were vacant with hopelessness. The fire grew as the people stood around. Watching, chanting like hungry animals before their meat was sent to the slaughter. Craving the blood to be shed, thirsting for life to be wasted. “..Wouldn’t you be?” His tongue is dry, his lips are cracked with hints of blood. 

The man ignored him, uncaring, and heartless. The smoke billowed into the air, the higher it reached, the louder the cheers roared. Shuichi stared upward, he spent those days in the cell begging for a second chance, crying as he spluttered to prove he’s not worthy of death.

But their ears are deaf to his voice. Crying is useless, so he silenced himself. Perhaps in the next life, if there is one, it won’t be so cruel.

A different cry burst from the crowd. A shout of pain, or hurt. When he cast his eyes down, he saw someone he knew. A boy he knew too well. “Stop! Stop this!” He shouted, over and over, like a chant to a god that doesn’t exist. “He’s innocent!” People from the crowd grabbed at him, holding him that as he thrashed against their grip.  _ “He’s committed no crime!” _

The sound of his voice cracking, hoarse with shattering volume, brought Shuichi’s eyes to gaze at him. Kokichi’s composure hardly broke, now he seemed rabid. His face contorted into so much anger and frustration that his eyes could kill. He breathed through short breaths and gathered his words to defend him. 

_ “Take me instead!” _

Shuichi’s stomach dropped. Once the words were out, some people laughed, others grew silent. He watched with horror as Kokichi lied, claiming he transformed himself to appear like him. But he’s lying, he’s desperate. But it was  _ working. _

“...No..” Shuichi muttered, “...No, No, Kokichi don’t do this,” His empty tone couldn’t be heard over Kokichi’s voice. Tears sprang back into his red eyes, “...Kokichi  _ please, _ ” He croaked, his throat clenched, knowing his words were unheard. 

The binding around his wrists was dropped, hurried hands grabbed him from the post he stood at. No longer harmful, no longer harsh. They grabbed Kokichi roughly, slamming him against the post, binding his wrists tight, “...Run,” Shuichi heard him say, his eyes on him as Shuichi was thrown into the safety of the crowd. “...just run,” 

Shuichi did. Though his head swirled and his body trembled with pain and hate, he did run. He broke through the crowd, shoving people, and hearing them cry out in disbelief. He ran past the village, past the kingdom walls, he pushed and pushed until his lungs burned until he swayed with dizziness. 

Deep in the thicket of the forest, he collapsed. Heaving through breaths. Unable to cry as he gasped, trembling so much that each muscle in his body squeezed and pulsed with scorching ache. 

Kokichi sacrificed his life for him to live. Yet, Shuichi's only reason to live now burned at the stake in his place.


	10. #No.10 Blood loss |  Blood Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.10 Blood loss | Blood Trail]**
> 
> -Head wound  
> -Blood Loss  
> -Implied Death
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A killing game where everything's the same except Shuichi's the Ultimate Neurologist and Kokichi gets his head injury before anyone dies.

Head wounds bleed excessively. 

Kokichi was horrified as he stared at his blood-stained hands. Blood coated his fingers and rolled off the sides of his palms. The ends of his white sleeves were rimmed with crimson as he hurriedly pressed his hands against his forehead. Blood slipped down the bridge of his nose, and over his lips. 

He swayed, standing with a shoulder against the wall as he accessed his atrocious state. Just his luck to plunge his foot right through a loose floorboard. As anyone would, he hoped not to be the first to die in this killing game, but his life in contrast to the vast amount of blood seeping from the gash in his forehead, he might be the first to go.

Kokichi staggered, one hand still pressed against his throbbing forehead as he felt a hand down the wall. His head was bowed forward, weighed down by the dizziness spinning his head like a top, blood dripped past in his fingers in quick drops. Splattering to the floor as he dragged his heavy feet down the stairs.

His first slurred thoughts were telling him to play dead in the common area. He chuckled, of course that’s his first thought. His second thought was telling him to go to his room. Get a towel, and stop the bleeding in the privacy of his bedroom. He’d have to conjure up some lie for the obvious trail of blood. Or say he murdered someone. Yeah, that’d be funny.

Yet, despite his both comedic and logical thoughts, he realized he wasn’t going downstairs. He stopped as he gazed up the stairs, one hand gripping the railing so hard his knuckles were white. It seems as though, internally, he wished to go somewhere more helpful. 

He carried his heavy feet up the stairs and blinked many times to chase away the blackness fogging his eyes. From his perspective, he felt like he was glitching. His mind rendered he walked up a couple of steps a minute after he did. The dizziness swirled in greater masses. It wasn’t until the door opened that he realized he knocked on Shuichi’s lab door.

Ah, how helpful, the Ultimate neurologist. 

“Oh...boy,” Kokichi breathed, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He chuckled, his voice wobbled unsteadily as he stared up at him. He watched Shuichi’s neutral expression shift into paralyzed shock. His amber eyes locked onto his bloody head wound and flicked to meet Kokichi’s eyes.

“You- this, this isn’t a joke, is it?” He asked, panic welling up in his gentle eyes as he looked down his arm. Where blood traveled down his sleeve, seeping into the white fabric. 

Kokichi laughed again, swaying where he stood. “No, I wish it was…”

No more needed to be said. Shuichi opened his door all the way and set a hand over Kokichi’s shoulder to steer him into his lab.

The room wasn’t vast like Kokichi’s Ultimate lab. It was an equal size to Kaede’s lab, and Kirumi’s. Like most doctors' offices, it was white with equipment lining the walls. From MRI scans, screens presenting pictures of brains, an examination table, and other trinkets that looked appropriate for a physician's setting. 

“Lie down please,” Shuichi said, leaving Kokichi beside the examination table as he opened a desk drawer for, what Kokichi assumed, was supplies. 

“What for?” He smiled, fueled by hysteria, he giggled again. Using a blood-stained hand to prop himself up on the table. 

Shuichi shot him a worried look as he pulled bandages and gauze from the desk. Other drawers were thrown open in a haste, it seems as though he’s not quite used to this new set up yet. “Your face is very pale,” He said quickly, returning to his side and undoing the bandage in his hand. “Which means you need to lie down to get oxygen back into your head. You feel light-headed, right?”

Kokichi paused, limply allowing Shuichi to lie him down on the table. The crunch of the paper beneath him was already being smudged with his hands. Blood was smeared down his face in fresh coats, he briefly wondered if this looked like a murder scene. “...Yep,” He answered, delayed, but better late than never. 

Shuichi nodded and pressed the gauze against his forehead. Kokichi grimaced, for someone who had delicate slim hands, he sure had a rough hold. “I didn’t know Nuro-whosy-whatsies did head wounds…” He muttered, the cheer in his tone dissolved the harder Shuichi pressed against his burning wound. 

“I don’t, not typically.” He replied, “I specialize in more internal issues, but it isn’t as if I don’t know basic first aid.” Shuichi’s eyes were focused, his jaw seemed tense, and from the angle Kokichi had, he had a good glimpse of his undone collar. Coffee stains peppered the front of his shirt.

He normally wore a doctor's coat, but that now hung on the end of a chair. He had on a vest worn over a button-up shirt. The stress as apparent. Shuichi didn’t hide it well, it seemed he didn’t care to hide it at all. “...basic first aid, which is what?” Kokichi asked, trying not to eye his disheveled appearance. 

He watched as Shuichi fumbled with another roll of gauze. Without removing the fully blood-soaked bandage, he applied the second roll. “Head injuries bleed a lot.” He muttered.

“No kidding.” 

Shuichi sighed, “And can cause many issues later on if not handled properly, you don’t seem to be nauseous, or losing consciousness, so I need to plug the bleeding and…”

“That’s all?” Kokichi scoffed. “I could have done that myself.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“‘Scuse me?”

Shuichi gave another worried look to his forehead. Droplets began bleeding into the fresh layer of gauze. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, biting his lip nervously. “...You don’t know how to stop the bleeding properly. You… You are bleeding excessively, it’s been nearly 15 minutes and it hasn’t slowed down too much.”

Kokichi’s throat felt dry. “Ah…” He supposed Shuichi had a point. “So I’m most likely going to bleed to death?” he doesn’t know why he laughed, but he did. Shuichi’s empty pensive expression made the panic in his stomach coil with nervous energy.

“...No,” Shuichi muttered, “I mean, that’s always a possibility, but I won’t let that happen.” He peeled off the drenched gauze rolls and pressed a fresh roll to his red and sensitive skin. He unrolled the bandages in his hand and began to wrap it around Kokichi’s head. “...I specialize in brain trauma, based on your injury, it seems you will just wake up with splitting headaches.”

“If I don’t bleed to death first?”

Shuichi’s tense shoulders dropped. “...yes, but I wouldn’t think like that.” His slim fingers were stained with blood. Kokichi watched as he looked at his hands, but quickly directed his attention back to Kokichi. His hands lingered over adjusting the secure bandaging. “I can look over you when you sleep. If you’re worried.” 

Kokichi stared at him as Shuichi left for a sink along a counter filled with tools. The handle squeaked as he turned on the faucet and ran a clean towel under the water. “...Why would you need to do that?” Kokichi remained lying down. He would get up, but his head kept spinning. It felt better to lay down with his eyes closed, not bothering with the tipping floor.

He flinched when a warm wet towel was pressed against his cheek. It felt soothing, Shuichi gently rubbed at the thick dried up blood streams down his face. “...I don’t want your condition to worsen. I know a plethora of things that could go wrong, and… well, if you don’t mind me waking you up every two hours, I just want to make sure you’re okay…” 

Kokichi hummed. “How do I know you won’t kill me?” 

Shuichi’s hand paused. “...You won’t, I guess.” He kept cleaning up the swatches of blood over his face. “...I have no proof if my intentions are ill or not, other than my words.” He sighed. “...I didn’t let you die now if that matters any. And… I care about you, but you probably think that’s a lie.” 

Kokichi pondered his claims while he let Shuichi clean his face. “...You don’t sound like you’re lying.” He muttered. “I’ll let you, but if you kill me, I’ll come back from the dead and kill you back.” 

Shuichi chuckled weakly. Though his smile seemed filled with genuine joy. “...That’s fair,” He set aside the blood-stained towel and looked into his eyes. “I promise you’re in good hands.” 

Kokichi believed him.

Whether or not that had been a smart decision, no one knew.

Because he never lived to tell the tale.


	11. #No.11 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.11 Defiance | Struggling | Crying]**
> 
> -Post Game  
> -Mentions of Self Harm and Suicide Attempts  
> -Greif 
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's post-game and the survivors are having a hard time.

The most dreaded sound anyone could hear is the shriek and cry of someone begging for relief. 

That relief could be a cure for an illness, for someone to stop hurting them, to let them stay away from a place that scares them. The list goes on. That desperate cry tends to come from children. Those who don’t want to get a flu shot, some who will throw fits just to not go to school. But those aren’t the cries that shatter hearts.

It’s the scream from someone who just lost their fiance. It’s the drawn-out sob of someone who realized they won’t be saved from their abusive home. It’s the horrified gasp of someone who is told they won’t survive their disease. It’s the silent cry of someone who is paralyzed with shock after just witnessing something horrifying.

In Shuichi’s life, it’s jerking awake to prolonged cries and wails of the girl in the room across from him. Or the shattering of glass when it collides with the wall. Or angry shouting at no one, as if it would help any of his pain. 

Some days he’ll walk down the city sidewalks beside Himiko, only to have her burst into tears at the sight of a danganronpa fan. She’d gasp at first, tears would swell in her eyes and pour over her cheeks, as she'd lurch at them, angry fists raising to pound harmlessly into them. Shuichi, each time, would yank her back, dragging her down the street as phones follow. 

At the crack of dawn, he’ll wake up to Maki angrily slamming her fists into the punching bag in her room. The dull and heavy thuds would echo throughout the small house, followed by pained grunting. By then, Shuichi would have been by her door, dragging her out, and sitting her down on the couch to drink tea together while her hands shake.

And some nights, well, most nights. Shuichi would feel his chest constrict so painfully that his breath comes out in a wheeze, and his hands grow numb, and his panic builds until he’s locked his bedroom door and cries so loudly that not even a pillow muffles his sobs. Each time, eventually, Maki or Himiko would break in and try to calm him down.

Those cries are the worst cries. 

The rasping, shallow sobs that come from the deepest parts of his burning lungs. That swirl in his chest and cause his heart to throb. It squeezes and writhes up his throat, and hurts when he gasps and chokes on every breath. Himiko always tries to comfort him, she’s like his little sister, but she falls apart when he repeats his mantra. The same words that never died on his tongue.

_ “I want him. I want Kokichi. I want him back.”  _

Hearing it over and over, desperate to hold him close again, reassure his mind that he’s breathing right next to him. That he’s still waiting for him to wake up in the morning because he knows Shuichi likes to sleep in. Or there’s still a note on his bathroom mirror saying ‘morning Shuichi!’. Yet It’s never there, and every night that fact kills him a little bit more inside.

The struggle is never alleviated. The pain only worsens. And his only comfort is burying his head in Maki’s shoulder when she pulls him close. Because she knows it’s the only thing that will keep him grounded. He keeps breathing for them, so he can wake up to have morning chats with Maki. To sit with Himiko on the beanbag in their living room just telling one another they can make it.

Though they all lost their lovers, they strive to find comfort in each other. Even when Himiko attempted suicide twice, even when Maki forgoes food for too long, even when Shuichi has too many cuts over his bare skin. 

They hold on, with their shaking and colorless fingers, but they hold on. 

They’ll keep holding on. For the sake of the dead, the sake of each other. Maybe one day, they’ll live for themselves.

But that day is not today.


	12. #No.12 Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.12 Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust]**
> 
> -Broken Bones  
> -Lovers Spat
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

Trust is extremely fragile. Especially when it comes from Kokichi Ouma.

Shuichi would think it wouldn’t be obvious when, or if he broke Kokichi’s trust. Yet the amount of guilt weighing in his chest, and the tears trembling in Kokichi’s eyes made it very, very clear he messed up. 

Kokichi sat on the floor, his back against the couch, his arms were crossed over his knees that were pulled in close to his chest. Only his eyes could be seen over his arms. From that, Shuichi could see the rashes under his eyes. As if he’d been crying long before Shuichi came into the living room at 9 that night. 

Shuichi grimaced. “...Do you want me to say sorry?” He asked tentatively. Scared he’d poked the bear with a stick too much.

Kokichi jerked his head up. “No, I don’t want you to say  _ sorry.” _ Shuichi flinched. His tone was sharp and harsh. He knows he’s only angry for now, but he’s wounded something important to Kokichi. Very important. “I want you to not lie to be about important things! You think it’s right to tell me, ‘everything's fine Kich go back to bed’ over the phone, meanwhile, you’re in the hospital?”

Shuichi sunk lower in the chair he sat in. His crutches were leaned up against the side of the chair he sat in. His fingers nervously toyed with them while his eyes stared at his right leg. From the knee down he was in a cast. On a mission there was an unexpected shootout, fortunately, he wasn’t shot, but in the events of getting away, it took a painful twist.

It happened quickly. He was shoved to the ground by a perpetrator and all their weight crashed down along his leg. He felt the snap that rang through his body, like brittle chips his bone snapped. Rendering him in pained agony until he woke up in the hospital. “...I was high off pain meds, Kokichi, I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“You think I deliberately lied to you because I wanted to deceive you?”

Kokichi raked his shaking fingered through the carpet. “...No. But you consciously decided to let me wonder where the hell Shuichi Saihara was all day.” He shifted his eyes, toiling with frustration, to glower at Shuichi. “You never came home. You didn’t tell me where you were. _You didn’t tell me anything.”_

Shuichi puttered out a tired sigh as he dropped his weary stare into his lap. “...It wasn’t my intention to worry you.” The minute the words fell past his lips, he knew he had chosen the wrong dialogue. Because Kokichi stood up, his eyes aflame with anger and his trembling hands closing into fists. 

“Then what was?!” He blurted, rage-filled tears spilled over his cheeks as his voice raised. “What was going through that stupid head!? Oh leave me to wonder if you’ve finally gotten sick of me, or, even better, you’re dying alone in the hospital without anyone there. So tell me,  _ Saihara, _ what the hell was your intention?”

Shuichi chewed and gnawed at his lips. The more Kokichi yelled at him, the more he realized just how stupid he had been over the past two days. “...You’re just going to yell at me no matter what I say.” He muttered, daring to look up at his hurt eyes. “...You’re mad, I’m exhausted, we aren’t in the best mood to talk something out.” 

Shuichi was exhausted. His body felt worn and beat. His leg panged with a dull throb every other moment. The headache he earned this morning only worsened by nightfall, and his chest constricted with heavy guilt the more he looked at Kokichi. Who stood there, biting his nails to nothing, glaring at him.

“Fine.” He hissed. “But I’m not sleeping with you.” 

Kokichi sucked in a sharp breath and turned to leave Shuichi alone in the living room. The words hurt, they stung, he does believe Kokichi’s just tired too and can’t handle the sight of Shuichi hurt, but he still felt the burn of tears in his absence. 

It’s just another lover spat story. He’ll come back, and apologizes will exchange. 

And, hopefully, Shuichi can mend at least one of the things he’s broken. 


	13. #No.13 Oxygen Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.13 Oxygen Mask]**
> 
> -Implied Attempted Suicide  
> -Implied Depression  
> -Hospitalization 
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

For a brief moment, he had what he wanted. Yet, all good things must come to an end.

The pin pricking sensation woke him up. Slowly, both warm and cold swirled on the surface of his skin. Bubbling up in splotchy areas that sparked discomfort. As his consciousness regained more awareness, the pressure of something over his face seemed to jerk him awake. His eyes shot open the moment he felt a familiar pinch in the crease of his arm.

Panic overwhelmed Shuichi. His eyes darted from the IV to the monitor, to the dim-lit hospital room. He hated hospitals, he truly hated them. Not that he had anything against doctors or medical practices, it was just the building itself. White walls and pungent cleaning supply smell always meant something was wrong. 

His hair felt wet, his bangs stuck to his forehead, and the pillow beneath his head felt damp around his ears. Worry sunk into him as he realized what had happened. Or, more specifically, what didn’t. 

His heart dropped. A different pain swelled in his chest and built heat behind his eyes. Faintly, he remembered plunging into the water, and the moments following he didn’t try to swim up. The lake he thrust himself into was frigid. He knew his limbs and joints would lock up on instinct, he knew he would be physically unable to save himself.

And yet, even after his third attempt, this one was just like the others. Unsuccessful. 

“...Shuichi?” Came a soft, and tired whisper. He turned his head, squinting through the darkness of the room. He swallowed hard. Shame beat him mercilessly as he caught sight of Kokichi sitting in the chair beside his bed. He appeared exhausted. His shoulders were slouched, and his eyes looked beyond worn. 

Kokichi reached over, he moved slowly, as if his body weighed more than ever, to grasp Shuichi’s cold hand in his. He then rested his head on the mattress beside Shuichi. Circling his thumb over Shuichi’s palm. He said nothing because there wasn’t much to say. This was the third time Kokichi sat there, blank expression, as he held Shuichi’s hand.

There was no use in asking if he was okay. No use in saying he’s glad to see him. Because Shuichi knows. He’s known. And yet he still succumbs to his desires. Shuichi didn’t expect a word from him, at least none of kindness. Perhaps one of anger or frustration.

“...what do you need, Shuichi,” Kokichi whispered. His voice was so soft he didn’t think he heard it. So breathy, and wispy. He could tell he was swallowing his tears. For who’s sake? Maybe Shuichi’s.

“...I don’t know.” He whispered back. The oxygen mask over his face made him uncomfortable. But he didn’t try to remove it. “...I don’t know what I need.” 

In short, he wants the internal agony to go away. He wants to stop waking up with empty nightmares. He wants to stop crying for no reason. He wants to look at Kokichi and smile, and not crave his touch just so he could hold him in silence. He wants to feel happy, but he doesn’t know how to reach that. 

Kaito tells him to smile because a smile tricks the mind into feeling happy. Yet he’s faked a smile so many times that he only feels worse. Kaede says to do what he loves, and yet no matter how many cases he finishes, he’s left feeling unproductive. Kokichi says to take his pills. Yet he doesn’t. And there’s no reason why. 

The room is painfully silent. Shuichi listened to Kokichi's breath, how his face was muffled by the sheet so his exhales were heard. He felt when Kokichi brought his hand to his lips, and felt each soft kiss he placed along the back of his hand. He squeezed his fingers and held his hand against his face. So his fingers rested against his cheek. 

“...I’ve never lost anyone before.” Kokichi whispered against his hand, “...yet when I even think of losing you I feel…” He sucked in a trembling breath, “...Awful. I really, really don’t want to know the kind of agony that comes if I actually…” He paused. “...If I actually lose you.” 

Shuichi only muttered his croaking apologizes through tears because he is sorry. He’s so sorry. He promised he’ll try harder. He promised he’ll try to be stronger. 

Just like he said all the times before. 


	14. #No.14 Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.14 Fire]**
> 
> -Apartment Fire  
> -Third Degree Burns  
> -Mild Poverty
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

Like most things, too much of a good thing is no longer good. 

Fire is enchanting in its own way. Flickering harmlessly over a candle. Warming up a home in a fireplace. Heating up food on a stove. However, such a harmless thing is dangerous when it breaks out of control. Glowing ashes drift into his memory and he blinks hard, pulled back to reality at the sound of a sharp and quiet gasp.

“...sorry,” Shuichi whispered. He lifted a cotton swab from the fleshy wound that reached from Kokichi’s shoulder down to his elbow. “...I’m almost done.” As gently as he could, he rubbed the ointment down the raging burn. Kokichi grimaced but held his tongue as Shuichi finished.

He sat beside Kokichi in their makeshift living room. Kokichi lied down on the floor, limply allowing Shuichi to tend to his burn while he resisted the desire to sleep. 

Just days ago they were in their apartment on the top floor. Someone a few stories down had a malfunction with their stove. The old machinery combusted, with the wooden floors, it spread quickly. The apartment building was repurposed from a different time in history, leaving most of its components aged and in their last few years.

It occurred at midnight. The fire raised an alarm and all those who were on floors beneath it went out unharmed. Unfortunately, those trapped on the higher floors sustained more injury. 

The skin around Kokichi’s burn was tender and red. Just the sight of it left Shuichi wincing in empathy. He applied a layer of gauze around his arm, working his way up. Squeezing it gently so the wrapping would stay snug on his arm. Kokichi watched, his head turned over his shoulder to stare at the exposed pink flesh disappearing under the wrap.

“...Thank you.” He whispered, his voice cracked with exhaustion. “The old bandage was getting really itchy…” Kokichi rubbed his eyes. It was early morning in their new apartment. Most of their belongings were destroyed, and their new area was untouched. Their current living space was paid for, but as for the insides, they were empty-handed.

Food and necessary supplies were low. But they scraped together what they could to live for a week or so until they needed more pity money. Shuichi already worked three jobs and Kokichi needed a few weeks off. Since his arm wasn’t the only burn he suffered. “...How’s your leg?” Shuichi asked, redirecting his eyes to the sides of his thigh, where an unchanged bandage wrapped around his leg.

“...It’s fine.” He replied. “Not as itchy. Just achy to move.” 

Shuichi picked up a roll of bandages and began wrapping it over the gauze. “...Alright, you can get to it later, yes?” Kokichi closed his eyes and nodded. He only needed help with his arm since it was hard to attend to with only one hand. 

He finished the bandages and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. “...you should go back to sleep, take some pain meds, okay? I’ll be back at night.” He gathered the old discarded bandages, used cotton swabs, and bottles of prescribed ointment. “...just text me if you need anything. I’ll be at the store today so…”

“The store?” Kokichi echoed, lifting his head, his tired eyes lighting up. “...Can you get Panta?”

Shuichi sighed, they needed soaps for the bathroom, new toothbrushes, cooking supplies, and so much more. Soda would be like throwing their limited money out the window, but he’d buy him one bottle. Because ever since he tossed and turned with searing burns peppered over his body, unable to sleep, happiness became scarce. Shuichi flipped through his wallet to set aside a dollar or two. 

“Of course.”


	15. #No.15 Magic Healing | Science Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.15 Magic Healing | Science Gone Wrong]**
> 
> -Human Experiment  
> -Child Abandonment
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

It doesn’t seem as if society would stoop deeper than it already has.

And yet, between horrible discrimination against innocent people, forcing stereotypes and tradition, overlooked harassment, government corruption, unfair treatment to the unprivileged, spreading lies and propaganda, and much more, science experimentation on minors, children, brought their society’s standards even lower.

This overlooked act of cruelty wasn’t seen as immoral. Since it only happened to a select few. Kids between the ages of 3 to 17 who tested positive for a certain chemical in their blood were legally taken from their home. This chemical, as far as the news says, is dangerous unless the scientists apply research and experiments. 

All Shuichi saw it as was society fearing what they don’t understand. 

The more they amped up the fear-spreading slogans about the ‘stained generation’, the more parents willingly handed over their kids to strangers' hands. The earlier they’ll test their infants for this unknown disease. 

Was it a disease? Shuichi would like to disagree. A disease is a disorder of a structure or function in the body. In his case, and many others, it’s the enhanced function of a system or growth. 

A pained breath exhaled through his nose. A searing pain built in his chest, coiling in his stomach, piercing his core so badly that shaking in the next breath hurt more than the last. Shuichi laid on a cold operating table, his back shivered against the chilled metal. 

Their sheer disregard for his comfort soiled his worth.  Every day they did this, injecting him with a serum that made his stomach clench and his head spin. All while a monitor beeped. A scientist would be on standby documenting his reaction. Watching him like he was nothing more than a specimen. 

Searching for this chemical was easy enough. The test was no harder than a prick on the tip of the finger. Had your blood bubbled up red, you were clean. Shuichi was six when he was sitting at the doctor's table, they took his hand and pricked his finger. When a bead of pink bloomed on his finger, the look of horror on his mother's face was forever stained into his memory.

Ten years trapped in this endless cycle of testing, pain, and relentless carelessness to humanity. No safety, no comfort. Shuichi had learned he truly meant nothing to the people around him. Or at least, he was different from them. Both humans, and yet Shuichi was lesser than them. He walked near them with his head down. When he spoke, he was ignored. Any cry for it to stop went unheard. 

Naturally, he stopped trying to be heard.

Not that he could swallow the tears all the time. 

They don’t like it when he breaks into emotional fits. Oftentimes they'll snap at him, or inject a dose of something that would slow his heart rate and turn his mind sluggish. It’s when they leave, leaving him to do as he wanted alone in the room. Not that he could do much at all. Like hundreds of days before, he curls up, soothing the ache in his worn body, and allowing the tears to slip over his nose and fall to the table beneath his eyes.

“Wow, I don’t believe it.” 

Shuichi flinched, jerking his head up towards the metal door. He saw a boy, smiling, swinging a key around his finger as he peered at Shuichi. He stared back. It was another patient, wearing the same gown, same patches around his arms, and the same dark swatches under his eyes. Matching Shuichi’s own. 

“A boy,” He continued, settling his hands behind his back as he strode into the room, “Who still has the ability to cry over discomfort?” 

Soon enough, he stood before Shuichi. His purple eyes gazed down at him. “...Or, can you not talk?” 

Shuichi swallowed hard, “I...I can talk.” His throat felt sore and unused. With struggle, he shifted his arms beneath him so he could sit up and meet this boy's eyes. He wiped his eyes, “...what are you doing here?” He hardly sees other patients, nevermind talk to them.

“Trying to escape.” He said nonchalantly. Playing with the ring of keys in his hands. Shuichi watched him fling the set over his scared and bandaged fingers. “But,” He laughed lightly, “This would be the 22nd time I’m trying, and this room doesn’t seem to be an exit, now does it?” 

His cheery smile shocked Shuichi. Despite constantly seeking freedom, planning for most likely days or weeks, yet failure doesn’t seem to faze him. “...yeah,” Shuichi whispered, wincing as he shifted. His body shot daggers through him, he froze to stop the piercing sensations in his core. Although he knows they won’t fully stop.

The boy tilted his head, eyeing where Shuichi held a hand over his abdomen. “Are you in pain?” His question is so blunt Shuichi didn’t know how to answer. He’s never been asked that, not in a long time.

“...Yes.” He breathed, it felt better when he was laying down, sitting up only makes his head spin. He flinched when the boy brought his head closer to his. 

“Did you know I can help?” The excitement seemed to grow within him, smiling broadly, he slipped the key into his chest pocket. Reaching up to push Shuichi down on the cold metal table. “Cuz I can, want me to?” Shuichi hadn’t managed a reply as he placed his hands over his tender midsection.

It happened instantaneously, the boy closed his eyes and a warmth spread over the pain. Coating it in what felt like warm honey. The contrast from a moment ago and now had him gasping in relief. The pain dissolved. Shuichi blinked, breathing with the weight taken off his stressed lungs. “W-What did you do?”

The boy chuckled. “I healed you. That’s what we can do, did you know?” Meeting Shuichi’s blank face, he only laughed. “Ah, of course, they haven't told you.” The door slammed open behind them. The boy twisted his head around at angry-looking doctors. “Whoops, that’s my cue of ‘better luck next time’.” He cackled, he skipped over, allowing himself to be grabbed roughly and dragged to the door.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” He shouted, still laughing, “I’m Kokichi! Nice to meet ya!”

The door slammed closed, and Shuichi ran his fingers over his midsection. Marveling at how painless he felt. “...nice to meet you too.” He whispered, even after the room was empty. 


	16. #No.16 Hallucination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.16 Hallucination}**
> 
> \- Schizophrenia  
> \- Hallucination   
> \- Relationship Struggles
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi has schizophrenia and Shuichi still loves him.

Shuichi has, more or less, gotten used to Kokichi’s condition.

They met in the middle of high school. For a good while they disliked one another, being edgy and moody for the majority of their young school life, their interactions were irritating and hardly enjoyable. Eventually, come college, the playing field leveled out where both of them were a little more mature, and could have a decent conversation.

Shuichi never imagined that a year into college that he’d find himself asking Kokichi on a date. Nor did he ever expect a reply of acceptance. They went out together, and then the next week, and then the next. Soon every weekend was set aside to enjoy together, and everyone around them knew it.

But it was only ever that. 

Just dates.

Normal dates, where they’d take a walk in a park, go to the movies, attempt karaoke, or sometimes, perhaps once a month if Shuichi felt like it, they’d make reservations for that one restaurant down the road. Not too fancy, but fancy enough to see Kokichi clip back his bangs.

This routine went on for another year. In a year they talked about a lot of things, and yet, as much as Shuichi felt like he knew Kokichi so well, he still knew nothing of his personal life. If he had family or not, what his hobbies are when he sits in on a rainy day. Kokichi doesn’t make it easy either. 

The last time Shuichi asked what he liked to do in his free time, Kokichi only smirked, a rift of joy filled his eyes, he leaned his chin into his palm and said, while chuckling, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

So Shuichi actively seeks his answers out himself. He thinks Kokichi wants this, for Shuichi to search for petty answers to petty questions. The times Shuichi watches him on rainy days, he only witnesses Kokichi swipe through his phone for hours, eat a few snacks, and see if he could hit Shuichi’s cowlick hair-strand with his Cheetos. 

Thus his conclusion is always, ‘to be determined’, or simply, ‘inconclusive’.

A few months ago, Shuichi had been trying to decipher if Kokichi would like to move in with him. He spent weeks gnawing at his lip and watching Kokichi as if he’d read his mind. He wasn’t afraid he’d say no, he was worried about not knowing when to progress the relationship. Were they ready? Would it kill their tolerance of one another?

A week following that thought, he caught Kokichi alone in his dorm when he asked. Shuichi remembered the heat in his palms and the strain in his eyes as he looked at Kokichi’s blank face. Searching for any indicated emotion hinting towards yes, or no.

“I…” Kokichi had hesitated, which nearly baffled Shuichi because it’s rare he catches Kokichi quivering. “...no?” 

“No?” Shuichi repeated. “You sound… unsure.” He looked at Kokichi, who was perched on Shuichi’s bed, a pillow in his lap, and his phone in his hands. Once previously playing a game, but now distracted by Shuichi. “You know it’s okay, you don’t have to, I was just… wondering. I’m almost done for the semester and I’ll be on a 3-month break and I was thinking of us… you know, moving in together in an apartment. But it’s fine if you’re not ready, or ah, comfortable…”

Shuichi didn’t think Kokichi was uncomfortable with the idea. They’ve already slept together a few times. They already bobbled around their small dorm rooms in the early morning trying to get ready for a class. (All to his roommates' dismay, but Kaito’s used to waking up with Kokichi draped over Shuichi in the next bed over, he’s stopped his complaints months ago).

“I’m fine with it,” Kokichi said, twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

“You are?”

“Well, no.” Kokichi turned his head to the side, his face still rendered blank. Shuichi had been by his dresser when he migrated over to sitting on the bed beside him. Kokichi must know how much sense he doesn’t make, because he sighed, and clicked off his phone to think straighter. “I mean I’m fine with it, I just don’t think you will be once we live together.”

Shuichi stared at him. “I’m quite used to you, there’s not a thing you’ve done, or currently do, that would make me regret living with you.”

At that moment, Shuichi still doesn’t know why, but Kokichi took it as the time to tell him something startling. Not that it was bad, Shuichi just didn’t see it coming at all. Kokichi had looked him in the eyes for once, he does that when he’s serious, and said,

“I was finally diagnosed with schizophrenia.”

As it turns out, Kokichi had been diagnosed with that illness for approximately 5 months before he decided to tell Shuichi. One of the main reasons why he was speechless was because he only knew the stereotypes of a schizophrenic, knowing Kokichi, he didn’t fit the memo at all. 

Fortunately for Shuichi, he knew stereotypes tended to be a select few, and not everyone fell under them.

Over the duration of the next few months, Shuichi spent his time reading online websites and books to understand the secret Kokichi had kept buckled and tucked away. A secret Kokichi kept close to his chest, in fear of it ruining the only successful relationship he’s ever had. At least, that’s what Shuichi assumed. 

Because he’d never forget that face of utter relief when Shuichi recovered from the surprise and said; “You’re still Kokichi, and I wouldn’t take you any other way.” 

It’s been a little over 3 months since then. Shuichi sat on the couch with a book in his lap. Kokichi moved in with him, happy to share a bedroom and a bathroom. There was no wall between the living room and the kitchen, so Shuichi could see Kokichi cooking at the stove.

It was moments like these when the mood was quiet, they both were tired at the end of the day, that something from the back of Kokichi’s mind riles back up to the surface.

Shuichi looked up and saw Kokichi stop, his attention from the pot of rice turned to stare at nothing. He looked over his shoulder, his purple eyes seemed to pinpoint something. Something that made his eyes widen and his jaw open as if to speak. His facial expression went from empty to annoyed. He snapped his jaw shut and jerked his head back to the stove.

“Kokichi?” Shuichi called out. When Kokichi didn’t respond he got up and set his book aside. “Do you want help with that?” He stood beside him, reaching over to turn off the stove before the chicken cooking in a pan burned for the second time that night. 

“It’s fine,” He muttered, brushing his hands away. Yet he twisted his head over his shoulder again, this time glaring. 

“You seem bothered,” Shuichi said, easily overpowering Kokichi’s weak attempts at pushing him away. “Did you take your medication today?” Kokichi nodded, but he wasn’t looking at Shuichi. His attention was drifting away at someone else. Where he stared, his expression twisting into distaste, and then apprehension. 

“You did?” Shuichi set the food on the back of the stove and gave his full attention to Kokichi.

“...Shut up for a moment,” He said, pressing the heels of his palm against his eyes. “...remember when I said it’s like bad ear ringing?” Shuichi tilted his head, he did remember, when Kokichi was trying to explain the equivalent of his hallucinations at a level Shuichi understood. “...right now it’s getting loud.” 

Loud, in their terms, meant distracting. Overwhelming. Fear inducing. Hallucinations can be triggered by things, whether sudden or slow. Recently Kokichi’s been struggling because another semester was going to start, and not only is school hard by itself, but he has to cope with _this._ Stress is an easy trigger for him.

Kokichi dropped his hands to his mouth where his thumbnail wedged between his teeth nervously. His eyes were following someone, when he tilted his head, and his eyes settled on a neutral spot in the room, he was listening. “Want to go finish the puzzle on the floor of our room?” Shuichi said, setting a hand across Kokichi’s back. “I’ll finish dinner for you.” 

“...alright.” Kokichi knew it was better to be distracted by thinking activities than it was to be distracted by hallucinations. “Thanks, Shuichi.” He wasn’t happy as he said it. His eyes were coated in a weighted sorrow. Annoyance pricked at him constantly. Looking burdened, he left for their room.

Shuichi finished up dinner and sought Kokichi out afterward. Kokichi always tries to seem fine, like most people would when they were internally struggling. If only Kokichi let him help more. Let him attend those doctor visits about his progress, or tell Shuichi when he needs a break himself. Or when he needs help coping. Or when he needs space. 

But like always, Kokichi never made it easy. So when Shuichi asked how he was handling it in the kindest way, Kokichi only sighed, giving a breathy chuckle as he was handed his plate of food.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”


	17. #No.17 Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.17 Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused]**
> 
> -Past Abusive Relationship  
> -Accidental Pregnancy  
> -Mentions of Gaslighting
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi tries to find out why Shuichi is such a wreck. Little does he know that Shuichi's a single father trying to get by in life.
> 
> [Warning: Shuichi was pressured into sex (it's never said or described but it is implied) and the girl who abused him blamed the baby on him and of course, him being a male, everyone believes her.]

It started on the first day he met him.

Shuichi Saihara, a young man he met in his second year at college. He was like him, both went straight from high school to college with no break. Both were 20. Both have been through the wringer a few too many times, and when he met Shuichi, that fact was undeniably clear. 

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. The bold grey stains under his eyes seemed to attest to long and sleepless nights. His hair was frizzy and appeared like he just ran a brush through it. His shirt was only half tucked, and there were coffee stains on his pants. In his arms, he carried a stack of books that reached his nose, and when Kokichi saw him, they were on the verge of tipping over.

His arms seemed to shake slightly with the weight of the textbooks, and just as the top book slid off the stack, Kokichi caught it before it collided with the floor. “Careful there,” He chuckled. “You shouldn’t be carrying all this if it’s too heavy.”

“I-I know…” That was the first thing he said. Which wasn’t the startling part, Kokichi looked up into his eyes once he heard his voice. His words croaked as he said them, even at a whisper, his throat sounded dry and he could see the red rashes around his eyes. “...Sorry.”

It’s the kind of voice someone has after crying and not having the time to recover. The kind of sorrow you can’t mask. Kokichi hadn’t known he was going to march headfirst into an emotional wreck, but it wasn’t as if he would march back out of it. He set the book back on top of the stack, and reached around the first half of the books, and pulled it off.

“I’ll help, where are you headed?”

Kokichi’s plan was to act upon this kindness, walk away, never to talk to him again. But just two days later he learned his name, and it wasn’t because he told him.

“Saihara Shuichi!” 

A loud voice of his professor called out to a room of roughly 80 students. He sounded angry, not in a way that he would hurt anyone, but in a way that sounded like the end of good grades. Kokichi didn’t care at the time, this professor had a bad temper, and calling young adults out was normal.

Yet his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw who ‘Saihara Shuichi’ was. 

The young man from two days ago stood up, his head bowed forward in shame. And his shoulder tense as he walked to the front to retrieve the paper the professor held with disdain. 

“I had announced there was a deadline, that deadline was 8 this morning.” His professor's voice was the kind that would make anyone shrink into their shell. His demeanor was suffocating, he was a tall man with the face of someone who had been scowling his whole life. “Your assignment was 30 minutes late.”

Kokichi watched from his seat as Shuichi muttered something no one could hear. The students around him were making faces of pity, and whispers of sympathy. Since Shuichi was the kind of person who had this aura of innocence about him. Not childlike innocence. But the tender innocence of someone who had good intentions, and a soft heart.

“Emails full of excuses don’t pardon you from the deadline. You failed this assignment.” The man took the rest of the assignments and aligned them on his desk. He glanced at the clock and then the class. “Dismissed.”

Kokichi wasn’t a softy. He normally didn’t care for sensitive people who were hurt (rather, he wouldn't show he cared). But this one, Saihara Shuichi, had looked him in the eyes two days prior, and Kokichi saw a lot of pain. With that in mind, he tossed his things into his bag and hurried down the aisle to catch Shuichi gathering his things.

“Hey,” He said, Shuichi looked up in surpise. “Wanna eat lunch with me?”

From that day forward, Kokichi took it upon himself to get to know this wreck of a person. Every time he met up with Shuichi, his eyes were always swollen, his face was always pale, his hands had a tremble to them each time he held something. Stress had attacked him inside and out, and Shuichi didn’t try hiding it.

But was it just stress?

Once he asked where his dorm was. Shuichi told him he lived off-campus in the apartments close by. When Kokichi asked about his address, Shuichi said he didn’t want to tell him. Even after the many lunches they ate together, there was a distinct wall of distrust. 

“Shuichi,” Kokichi had stopped him in the hall one week. The hall was empty besides for a few in the distance. Shuichi once again looked like he’d tossed and turned all night without a wink of sleep. In fact, he looked worse. He looked sick. “What’s wrong?”

Shuichi looked at him, those pain-filled eyes met his. Kokichi couldn’t bear to stare into them, those pools of agony translated to him so clearly that he could almost vividly feel that amount of ache he carried. “I can’t tell you.” 

Kokichi blinked. He knew Shuichi wouldn’t deny it, but he didn’t anticipate this. “Why not?”

Shuichi looked to the floor, then rubbed his swollen eyes. “...Because you’ll want to help, and you can’t.”

Kokichi felt the weight in his chest crush his heart. “But... you won’t let me try.” He said, the more he looked into those hurting innocent eyes the more he didn’t want to turn his back on him. Like so many others probably had. “You know I’m pretty handy if it’s classwork, or whatever, I can help.”

“It’s…” Shuichi took a deep breath, his exhale shook on the way out. “It’s not school work…”

“I can totally research therapists if it’s something like that.”

“No...no,” Shuichi rubbed his eyes again, tears were coming to the surface. “...I don’t have time for a therapist. I...I usually can handle myself, just not...” He fell silent, his eyes welled up with tears and he tried not to let them fall. The attempt was futile. 

“Just not what? Cut some of your classes if you can’t do stress.”

Shuichi shook his head, his shoulders were trembling now, his head was in his hands. “I have already…” He whispered breathlessly, “I-I’ve cut half my classes…” 

Kokichi stared helplessly as he wiped his face. He was silent, he didn’t make a sound as he swallowed his cries. Something tells Kokichi he’s used to that, he’s used to having to be quiet. He reached up and slid his fingers around Shuichi’s wrist. “...Come on,” He muttered, pulling him down the hall. “We’re going on a walk.”

That walk was taken outside and down the sidewalks of the roads. He held Shuichi’s wrist as they walked, while Shuichi used his free hand to wipe his eyes. Kokichi looked at him, for once his eyes were kind as he stared up at him. “...What’s going on, Shuichi?” He asked in the softest tone. He wasn’t sure if being in the open air helped, but he always liked being with someone on a walk, especially when he was upset.

They walked slowly, one foot stepping in front of the other in small increments. Shuichi had his lip puckered, and his eyes swollen with tears. “...Too much.” He whispered, his soft gentle tone punctured in scars was hard to hear.

“It won’t get better if you don’t tell anyone.” He replied, squeezing Shuichi’s wrist, in hopes of comforting him.

“...I have told people.” He muttered. His head still hung in shame. “...They all thought bad of me… I didn’t mean what happened… I didn’t…” He sucked in another deep breath. Kokichi can only imagine what happened effects him every day. Otherwise, it wouldn’t destroy him like this. He needs help. He really does.

“I won’t think bad of you.” He promised, “I’ve done my fair share of awful things. Probably worse than you.” He caught Shuichi’s eyes, and they, for once, appeared hopeful. But still coated in doubt. 

“...You won’t…” He repeated to himself. “...You really won’t?” 

Kokichi wanted to go off on how he could hate him. How could he look into those kind eyes and think he was a bad person. He slid from his wrist to his hand and squeezed his fingers. “I won’t.” 

Shuichi took a couple more deep breaths. Trying to calm down and speak without his voice wobbling. When he spoke, he still carried that doubt, and that shame, but he held tightly onto Kokichi’s hand. As if hoping he wouldn’t slip away once the truth came to light. 

“...I was in a bad relationship,” He started, his free hand trembled over his lips. From the look on his face, Kokichi could see he really did mean a _ bad  _ relationship. “...I’ve never been in one before, and she was so kind to me… but she would say hurtful things and get upset with me so much…” He hid his eyes in his hand. “...It was awful. It was… awful.”

Shuichi went on to say she would get mad easily, and call him too sensitive. She’d yell at him when he did something wrong. And she wouldn’t let up until he promised something. Through this, Shuichi constantly said,  _ “It didn’t happen all the time.”  _ He explained she controlled who he hung out with, and snapped at him when he expressed how he felt.

Kokichi was only getting angry for him. But he listened, all while Shuichi admitted things through tears. But keeping his voice remarkably level. “...We did things I hated all because she said ‘if you loved me you’d do them’... and I thought I loved her, I really did.” His face was horribly pale as he quoted it. His eyes filled with memories of dread. “...and that’s how…” 

“How what?”

Shuichi had never gripped Kokichi’s hand harder. His voice trembled when he said it. “Us two turned into us three.” 

Kokichi froze, he came to a complete stop and he stared at Shuichi with utter shock. “God Shuichi,” He has never hated a stranger more than he did at this moment. “She dumped the baby on you didn’t she?”

Shuichi nodded fervently. Tears rolled down his cheeks, “Yes,” He choked out, “and I… I don’t know how to do  _ anything, _ ” He sucked in a shallow breath, “Her family hates me, cause she said it was all  _ my _ fault, and my parents hate me, and my uncle thinks I’m such a- a  _ failure _ …” He sobbed, “I-I didn’t know what I was doing… and the only way my family will like me is if I pass college, but I have to take care of my baby, and I… I-I really need help…” 

Kokichi couldn’t understand why his family would leave him like this. He was abused in more ways than one, pressured into things he didn’t like. “It’s okay Shuichi…” He said, taking his other hand and holding them firmly. “I can help… I don’t have classes on Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday, I can come by and help, okay?”

Shuichi bit his lip. “...I just…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “...I need sleep…”

Suddenly the sleepless nights make sense. “I can stay a night,” Kokichi said, taking one of his hands once again and walking back to campus. “You can sleep while I babysit. I grew up with tons of babies around. And I sing the best lullabies.” He laughed softly, praising himself silently when Shuichi’s trembling lips picked up in a small smile. 

“Thank you Kokichi...Thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have gone into Kokichi helping him out by letting him sleep and taking care of the baby (Since I love the idea of weary Shuichi finally getting sleep and real love from Kokichi while they bond with the lil baby) But this is supposed to be a one-shot and I had to keep it short!


	18. #No.18 Panic attacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.18 Panic attacks]**
> 
> -Panic Attacks  
> -Post Game   
> -Simulation Au
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

It’s hard to live with someone who struggles as much as you do.

It’s like two sick people taking care of the other. It’s possible but hard and stress-inducing. No one heals properly, and they earn scars that stretch across the skin in a jagged and patchy way. It’s the kind of wound that gets infected over and over, the kind of stitch that keeps ripping, the relentless tears that come up but refuse to spill over.

Shuichi would never tell someone that one sickness is worse than another. But when living with Kokichi, he can't help but think about how his pales in comparison.

Kokichi had gone through so much in such a short amount of time. Just as they all did in the game. But Kokichi woke up afterward and discovered he was not only alive but had no family. Not even dice. On top of this stomach-sinking news, he had to deal with the trauma of his death. 

Shuichi still had his uncle, he still had his friends, despite his struggles, he had forms of support. Kokichi didn’t.

They had two bedrooms in the apartment. Shuichi often wakes up in the middle of the night from Kokichi’s nightmares. Shuichi always got up, his feet sluggish, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his eyes red with lack of sleep, and opened Kokichi’s bedroom door to calm him down.

Kokichi hated it when Shuichi did that. And yet he wouldn’t fight him when Shuichi sat next to him and rubbed his back while he sobbed under the blanket. He would let Shuichi pull the covers off him to take his hand, and oftentimes he’d take him to the kitchen to have some tea, just to relax.

Most nights, Kokichi wouldn’t say anything. He’d cry until he woke up enough to realize he was fine. After that, he’d stare into space while Shuichi kept him company. Then in the morning, no one would acknowledge it. Or at least, Kokichi wouldn’t. Shuichi learned that he doesn't like to talk about it.

He’s noticed that Kokichi likes his company, he likes spending time with him, but he’ll never say it. Shuichi can see it in the way his eyes light up when he sees Shuichi come home. Or when at night and he's refusing to sleep, he gazes at Shuichi as if silently wishing he’d stay beside him. But he’ll never ask for him. Not once.

Shuichi once thought that being with Kokichi would drain him. Since he’s constantly giving to Kokichi, he’s always making his tea and helping him sleep, and staying up with him and his anxiety. But he found that he likes helping him. 

Of course, Shuichi had his moments where he couldn’t care for Kokichi. Where he wakes up in the morning and his breath is already shallow and his fingers feel numb, and he’s shaking so bad that it hurts to try and stop. When tremors attack him he feels helpless, he feels pained. It’s like electrocutions zapping him over and over, ripping through his nerves endlessly.

Unlike Kokichi, Shuichi is silent when he’s experiencing horrendous bouts of anxiety and sudden panic. 

Desperate to stop the pain he always hurries to find Kokichi. The first time this happened he expected Kokichi to do nothing. Even laugh at him. But when he found him in the small living room, he pulled him close with his hands trembling and wrapped his arms around him. Kokichi froze, but slowly folded his arms around his torso. He leaned his head into his shoulder and turned his lips to his ear. The gentle words he spoke at that moment were just enough to soothe his rapidly beating heart and hug him tighter.

_ “It’s okay... Shuichi.”  _

He closed his eyes and held him still so the tremors wouldn’t attack him further.

_ “It’s okay.” _


	19. #No.19 Grief | Mourning Loved Ones | Survivor’s Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.19 Grief | Mourning Loved Ones | Survivor’s Guilt]**
> 
> -Shootout  
> -Gun Violence  
> -Minor Character Death  
> -Multiple Mentions of Mental Illnesses
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A one-shot where dice was killed in a shootout and Kokichi survived. He now lives with Shuichi, seeing the world through vivid daydreams and mental struggles. 
> 
> [ The focus is Maladaptive Daydreaming near the end ]

Shuichi knew Kokichi was mentally absent when he caught him alone with a blank face.

He just came through the front door when he caught a glimpse of Kokichi sitting on the front porch. Their apartment wasn’t large, from their front door you could see the two glass sliding doors, on the porch there were two chairs. Kokichi always favored the right chair versus the left. Claiming it’s his chair, and he’d never sit on Shuichi’s ‘throne’. 

He set down his bag and unbuttoned his vest, loosening his tie as he walked across the floor to reach the sliding porch doors. His boyfriend wasn’t a very typical person, definitely not someone prone to predictable activities. But he does have his habits, and patterns of living. And one of them was his coping mechanism. 

Shuichi watched with curiosity and fondness. He observed through the glass as Kokichi’s expression shifted as if he were speaking with someone. His mouth would move, and if he spoke words, it was muffled by the glass. His eyes would widen as if in shock, his jaw would drop as if speechless. What amazed Shuichi was that he’d do this for hours.

Had Kokichi not been invested in running a past gang of jokesters, he could have been an actor. He could conjure tears and let them roll down his cheek slowly, he could look genuinely horrified, and yet, he isn’t. This is how Kokichi plays. Or more accurately, how he copes.

Almost five months ago Kokichi suffered a heavy loss. Police brought violence when it was uncalled for, and shot up a band of teens and young adults. A gang of pacifists. The tragedy still wakes Shuichi in a cold sweat some nights, and tortures Kokichi every time he closes his eyes. The young men and women were rushed to the hospital too many hours after the fact, and none survived.

Except for Kokichi.

Kokichi suffered a bullet to the thigh. Fortunately, it missed an artery and even with the late arrival of the ambulance, Kokichi didn’t lose too much blood. But it was a horrendous couple of hours. From the moment the guns went off, to the moment Kokichi woke up in the hospital the following morning. 

Kokichi so happened to be a place behind them all, and when the guns went off, everyone scrambled to protect him. It wasn’t until they ceased fire that Kokichi realized he had lost 5 of his members, and unbeknownst to him, would lose the rest within the next hour.

Shuichi was the first car to arrive on the scene and arrest the rogue cops. And when he saw the massacre, he called the ambulance, wondering why hadn’t anyone else done the same. Even though Kokichi was unconscious at the time, Shuichi rode in the ambulance with him. Making up some lie for the paramedics to let him in. 

He was with Kokichi when he woke up. He was still with him while he screamed at the doctors to stop helping him. He kept Kokichi in that hospital bed, even though he begged that they kill him too. It had Shuichi in tears listening to him plead for death, desperate for any means of ending his life.

For so many nights after he was released Shuichi fought him when he had to eat, when he had to drink, and when he had to change his bandages. For weeks Kokichi refused to sleep, he refused to talk, leaving Shuichi to scream into his pillow at night out of pain and frustration. 

He worked hard to clear his name of crime. After such a long and grueling process, Kokichi was declared innocent, and thus began two entire weeks of Kokichi straight up ignoring him.

Shuichi remembered sighing out of pure relief the day Kokichi looked him in the eyes and said,  _ “I really, really hate you.” _

The fact that Kokichi had anything to say to him at all was a step in the right direction.  _ “Love you too, Kokichi.” _

It’s been five months since that day. The day Kokichi lost his family. Nearly half a year, as Shuichi likes to think of it. The farther that date drifts apart from them, the more Kokichi has healed.  _ One day at a time,  _ Shuichi likes to tell him. Because it’s too much thinking they’d have to do more than that.

Kokichi picked up an old coping mechanism to get through recent weeks. Though he claims to have done it for as long as he could remember, just now he has more time to indulge. For a good while, Shuichi didn’t understand that or what this coping mechanism was. But he’s learned how simple it is.

Essentially, it’s vivid daydreaming.

When Kokichi sits next to him, and Shuichi’s busy with work, Kokichi will hug his non-dominant arm and stare. But he won't stare at Shuichi. He’ll gaze into the distance. Much like Shuichi can do his cases for hours, Kokichi can sit still and stare, for hours, and hours.

Upon further investigation on Shuichi’s part, a term for what he does is called dissociation. Everyone does it from time to time when your mind wanders into a land far from this one, then you realize you’re doing something and just lost 30 minutes to mindless thought.

Kokichi does exactly that but more than Shuichi’s ever seen in someone. It isn't as if he sits still every day. He’ll be mentally absent while he cleans dishes, while he eats, while he watches a disinteresting show. Shuichi is always fascinated by how present he is, with a mind that’s taken a back seat. 

Just a week or so ago he took him to talk to a psychiatrist because Shuichi was worried that this wasn’t healthy. Or the trauma he sustained was affecting him in a way that would spiral into something else. But, after a week of Kokichi actually _ talking  _ about it, he was handed the diagnosis of Attention Deficit Disorder. 

Which Shuichi couldn’t imagine is the answer. 

“Shuichi?” 

He blinked, talk about losing himself in his thoughts, he felt his face flush as he looked down at Kokichi who stood in the frame of sliding porch doors. “Ah, sorry…” He said, smiling nervously. “I shouldn’t...watch you like that.” 

Kokichi hated being watched while he thought he was alone. His eyes flickered down, “It’s fine,” He sighed, then reached over to take his hand, “come and sit with me, I wanna share something with you,” He pulled Shuichi onto the porch and closed the door behind him. He sat Shuichi down in the left chair, his respected ‘throne’, and Kokichi scooted his chair closer. 

“Is that so?” Shuichi tilted his head with curiosity, he leaned on the armrest as Kokichi pushed his chair against his and sat down with his knees tucked under him. 

“Yep, I was looking through mental illnesses, cuz we both know I have  _ many, _ ” He chuckled, clicking on a website he had saved in his notes, “And look! This describes my wonky head perfectly and the best part is, no one can be diagnosed with it.” He passed Shuichi his phone and he took a good look at the information.

“No one can be diagnosed…?” Shuichi scrolled through the website, it did indeed state that it isn’t in books or very popular among diagnosis, but many believe it’s a real thing. 

“Did you look at the symptoms?” Kokichi asked, his excitement bubbling, afterall he seemed so proud of this find. 

Shuichi went to the list of symptoms and muttered them out loud. To each one Kokichi nodded. This disorder consisted of daydreaming triggered by real-life events, difficulty sleeping at night, an overwhelming urge to continue daydreaming, making facial expressions while daydreaming, whispering and talking while daydreaming, and many more. 

“...Well, I think you have Maladaptive Daydreaming Kich.” He chuckled, passing the phone over to him. “I’m just glad you're handling everything in a good way…” He sighed. The past couple of months have been draining, and so has his work. Kokichi hummed, weaving his small fingers to intertwine with his. 

“...I should get a gold star,” He whispered, leaning over to rest his chin on Shuichi’s arm. “...A.D.D, P.T.S.D, bipolar, panic disorder, depersonalization disorder…” He hummed again, tilting his head, “...Why not add Maladaptive Daydreaming to the list? Look at how many ‘disorders’ I have already.” 

Shuichi leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “...Everyone’s in disorder, they just don’t have a fancy name for it yet.” He whispered. “...besides, you aren’t any less of a person, you just need a little more love.” 

Kokichi smiled, “I hope that love comes in the form of soda bottles.” 

Shuichi laughed softly. “...Sure, long as you eat dinner.” 

He then proceeded to slide from his chair and lay flat on the floor, claiming he was entering his daydreaming world and he had to come and try again later. Shuichi only picked him up and dragged him inside. Today was a good day, other than the loud complaints from Kokichi and his dramatic display of suddenly catching polio, it really was a good day.

Other times weren’t as great as this one. 

But as always, they’d take it one step at a time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written off my own experiences of living with (With the exception of one or two) all the symptoms of Maladaptive Disorder, and diagnosis of inattentive ADHD. Don't let your diagnosis define you as "Disordered". You are still just as human and sane as the next!


	20. #No.20 Lost | Medieval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:**
> 
> **[#No.20 Lost | Medieval]**
> 
> -Crossdressing  
> -Implied Homophobia  
> -Separation   
> -Heartbreak
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically: Kokichi is a helpless romantic cross-dressing thief in the medieval era that almost suffocates from a corset.

He gripped the back of the chair, raking his nails against the polished wood as he winced. “Whoever invented these things should be  _ hung.”  _

Kokichi bit his tongue hard to keep from groaning when Kirumi jerked the lances on the corset. Her swift fingers looped through the holes traveling down his back. Never hesitating to yank each loop around to squeeze his waist, and constrict his lungs. He wheezed when she pulled the last bow tight.

“Please Ouma, do not act so bothered.” She said, standing as tall and prestigious as ever. “Your current behavior is not proper. The prince will be displeased once he dances with you.” Kokichi rolled his eyes, grimacing as he stood tall, with his feet fitted in small shoes with heels to give him more height, and a gown that reached the floor.

“Aren’t you  _ human? _ ” He lightly pushed his hands against his compressed mid-section. “Kirumi, these things are practically designed to kill.” He turned to the side to gaze at himself in the mirror. Even though he was stiff, and couldn’t bend over, he won’t deny he looked good. The dress is the best of its kind, and the make-up smeared over his face was all their age.

“Fortunately they are not,” Kirumi replied, completing the final touches by lacing up his back, hiding the corset under his dress. “Now, you know of the prince. Get close to him, and-”

“Steal his money!” Kokichi sang out, twirling in his place despite the ache in his sides. He picked up his hat lying on the desk and daintily laid it on his head, tilting it to the side. “I’ve done this more times than you’ve laced a corset Kirumi,” He walked with ease in his heels towards the door while she followed behind. “With a snob like him, he’ll invite me to his bedroom before you could even say ‘first dance’.” 

The first dance, huh.

Kokichi quite obviously wasn’t a royal, nor was he the supposed daughter of a noble family. More accurately so, he was the _ son  _ of a noble family. Yet ever since he was the age of two, he was given the label of ‘daughter’ before he could comprehend language. 

His parents had little connections with him. They never had family bonding, instead, they taught him how to steal and rob, how to lie on the fly, and how to twist someone around his finger so tight without suspecting anything at all. They even refer to him as a girl, they treat him like a girl. Because they wanted a little girl, not a boy.

Not that Kokichi cared too much. They wanted a girl specifically for deceptive reasons. No one would suspect a female in this world of kingdoms and royals to rob anyone. Fortunately for his family, they were blessed with a son who had a feminine face and easily looked like a girl even without the make-up.

He would take hands with noblemen, rob them in the night, and cry tears with them when they wake up with empty pockets. He’s always acting, even behind closed doors. 

But that changed when he met one prince. Of course, it was a prince, the kind out of a fairy tale. Except he wasn’t glowing with gold lining his every feature. The night he met him had been a bad night, for both of them, apparently. 

He took the dress off for one night. He dressed like a boy for once. Just to get away from his life for a moment or two, and would return back in a couple of hours. 

It had rained that night, the streets were muddy and the carriages splashed dirty water on him as they passed by. He stepped into a tavern, and there sat the prince of the neighboring kingdom in the corner. His head in his folded arms, and a cloak over him.

Obviously, he was in disguise, but Kokichi knew that blue hair anywhere. He shook hands with that prince, just once, but he never forgot it. He sat beside him and struck up a conversation that lasted hours. Even until the rain stopped. Until the sulking boy took his hood off and looked him in the eyes. Kokichi would never forget that look on his face as he was getting up to leave.

He had whispered,  _ “Better get back to your kingdom princy,” _

He understands needing a break from a loud and busy life. So he winked when he left, leaving the prince gaping as he walked out the tavern doors.

They met and found one another again and again after that. Up until Kokichi and his noble family moved into another kingdom. Of course, the separation made his heart ache. The prince, Saihara Shuichi, was the only one who knew who he really was. Not in the dress, not under a layer of make-up, he saw him without looking through a polished and refined window.

Now tonight, Kokichi has the chance to see him once again. This would be the first time he stands in front of Shuichi dressed up, and the second time he sees Shuichi in his prince get up.

The ballroom was as exquisite as any. Elegant tapestries and silk-covered tables with all it’s delights lining it. The floor was so polished it reflected his appearance like untouched water. The chandeliers hung decorated with thousands of pearls and crystals, though Kokichi wasn’t astonished by it. He’d seen places like this more times than he could count.

He winced, he was wearing a new corset his parents strictly ordered him to wear. All the girls his age wore them, and thus he must as well. They were tighter, smaller, and horrendously effective in achieving a smaller waist.

Kokichi attempted to hold his chin high, just as he always does, but he felt tremendously light-headed. He glanced to see in this busy ballroom any other young girls struggling, and he saw a pale face or two. Ugh. Damn this society and its skinny waists, one day it’s going to kill someone.

He leaned against one of the tables, trying to pretend to be interested in the deserts. But his breaths were too shallow in his monstrous clothes. How’s anyone supposed to live like this? 

“K-...Ou-Ouma?”

Kokichi looked up, “Oh,” He breathed, pushing up the end of his fancy frilly hat to see a very striking and familiar face. “You recognize me, hm?” 

Shuichi gazed at him, excitement bloomed in his golden eyes. Kokichi couldn’t help but look down at him. He wasn’t used to seeing him adorned in gold lacing and rich fabrics. He looked stunning, it would be breathtaking if Kokichi had any breath to spare. Shuichi had this soft nervous smile over his lips. “Yes…” He said quietly, even over the crowd Kokichi heard him. “Yes, of course,” 

Kokichi has never felt stupid in a get-up until now. Because for once he felt like he was playing dress-up for no good reason at all. He didn’t want to rob Shuichi. At least not of his money. Shuichi extended his white-gloved hand. “Would you like to have the first dance with me?”

“No,” Kokichi breathed. “I’d rather stay here, thanks,” He’d love to dance with him. It’s his secret dream he cherishes at night. But he couldn’t even breathe properly. Shuichi didn’t look offended, he only lowered his head and looked at him sincerely. 

“Are you okay? You look pained.” 

Kokichi’s laugh slipped out of him helplessly. He reached for Shuichi’s hand and squeezed it. “...If you don’t want me to die, take me to your bedroom. Now.”

He enjoyed the look of fear over the prince's face, it was priceless. And Kokichi would have laughed if he wasn’t being walked through crowds of rich people around the ballroom. His head was spinning, he stared at the gloved hand grasping his as he was led down the hall. His heels clicked on the floor the further they walked.

Soon they were alone, and Shuichi pushed open a door and pulled him inside. 

“Are assassins after you or something?” Shuichi asked worriedly as he gazed at Kokichi. He only laughed, his voice strained with lack of breath.

“No,  _ worse, _ ” He winced again, “Undo the corset I’m wearing," He wheezed, his sides clenching painfully as he tried to inhale, "I’m not kidding I feel faint.” 

Shuichi blankly stared at him. The cogs turned in his head more slowly than Kokichi anticipated. Then he laughed. Kokichi watched as his nose wrinkled and his shoulder shook. He was laughing at him, but Kokichi couldn’t help but like the sound. The prince hardly laughs like that.

“You had me so worried, Kokichi,” Shuichi chuckled, standing behind him in the dimness of the room as he pulled at the laces on his dress. “I thought someone was after you.” Kokichi could only hum a laugh in return. Too occupied in the feeling of Shuichi’s fingers gently pull at the bows leading down his back.

The dress is the easiest part to undo. Shuichi met the knots on the corset and slowly worked at it. It was obvious he’d never worked with one before since when he pulled on some places it would tighten, and by Kokichi’s sharp breath he’d try to undo his mistake. He could already feel it loosen around his sides, and when Shuichi pulled the last bow loose and helped Kokichi slip it off, he took a grateful gasp of air.

“...Oh, hallelujah…” He breathed, massaging his sides, only to have Shuichi's hands circle around his own. 

“Why were you wearing that?” He asked, guiding Kokichi to sit on the bed so he could take a couple more deep breaths. “It looks like it was doing more harm than good.” He sat beside him, concerned by the number of cleansing breaths he was taking. 

“It doesn’t do any good.” Kokichi sighed, “Unless I wanna look pretty. Which, let’s face it, I’m already gorgeous.” He giggled, not expecting Shuichi to pick up his hand and kiss the back of his palm with such softness.

“I agree... You don’t need any of this to look pretty.” His expression was so kind and so gentle. Kokichi never thought such a prince could have that look. “...I like you better when you are you. Not some noble’s daughter.” 

“...Ah,” Kokichi looked up at him, dazed by his milky voice and hurt by the rules in this world. “You can’t love me like that, you know. I’m someone’s son.” 

Shuichi recoiled slightly, letting his hand fall back to the mattress. “But as far as anyone knows you’re someone’s daughter.” He looked sad, his eyes shone longing, true longing. The kind that only yearns for good things. “It could work if…”

“We live a lie?” Kokichi frowned. “It sounds nice Shuichi, It really does, but I’ve been lying my whole life. Not that I’d ever fully stop, but… it won’t ever feel real unless it’s built on truth.” He laughed softly. “You always were telling me how good the truth is. Now the roles have reversed.”

Shuichi lowered his head. He was burdened, lost in a love he couldn’t have. And so was Kokichi, but Kokichi was used to giving up his desires for so long. Why was Shuichi different?

“...I can’t marry you, then?” He whispered, the heartbroken pain was too tangible in his voice.

Kokichi took his hand and squeezed it. “...Unless you fake your death and run away with me, but you’d never leave your kingdom behind. And I’m close to fed up with pretending to be this, and even if we did marry, we’d have to produce an heir and obviously, we can’t do that. You know I’d get beheaded if I can’t give children. Even more so if they find out.” 

Shuichi shook his head. “...Don’t speak so truthfully.” He whispered. “This is the one thing you can lie about..” 

“It isn’t,” Kokichi said back. “Not when our lives are on the line.” 

Shuichi knew better. He did. But he just wanted one lie to be true. That they could be together without fault or committing a crime. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Shuichi’s cheek. “...But,” He whispered, “Forget about the ball, forget about this kingdom. Have me for tonight, and I’ll leave for good in the morning…” 

It was awful, the pain in leaving was too great. Even when he did leave, and disappeared from his life, he couldn’t breathe. It was worse than the corset, worse than anything. Because he had to say goodbye to the one truth in his life.

Losing himself in endless lies once again.


	21. No.21 Chronic Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[No.21 Chronic Pain]**
> 
> -Neck and Shoulder Pain
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

Shuichi pressed his warm hands against his bareback. 

Kokichi exhaled, he closed his eyes against the feeling of his thumbs pressing firmly along the sides of his spine. His palms were warm and smooth. They traveled up around his aching shoulders and squeezed the muscles around his shoulder blades. As he did that, a knot buried in his nerves melted loose and Kokichi sighed.

“...I didn’t know you stressed this much,” Shuichi said, gliding his hands over the tops of his shoulders and kneading his thumbs along the back of his neck. Successfully making Kokichi flinch once he hit a sensitive area. “...You’re really tight up here,” He lightly pressed his nimble fingers against the tops of his shoulder and Kokichi winced, shuttering when pain sparked and washed through him.

“...I know that,” Kokichi whispered. “Just keep working your magic, I didn’t ask for this so you could spout the obvio-ahh-Hah...Ooh lower…” He leaned forward on Shuichi’s bed as his hands trailed to his lower back and pressed firm circles against his skin, working the muscles, then working his way up again.

“You were saying?” Shuichi chuckled. Kokichi muttered something, but with his face pressed into the blanket, his words were muffled.

The room was dark, only Shuichi’s bathroom light was on. It has become routine for either one of them to share a bed for a night, after all, being years into their relationship, it’s done without much thought. This night, however, Kokichi had tossed and turned long enough to wake Shuichi up. 

It wasn’t the first time Kokichi suffered from a nearly sleepless night due to chronic neck and shoulder pain. It was just his luck his boyfriend knew just enough massage techniques to soothe the throbbing pain knitted into his neck. So, on night’s like these, he spends his time trying to undo as many knots and kinks as he can.

Kokichi turned his head to the side. “...I said no need to tell me the-Ah! Ahh...hey easy does it...” 

Shuichi only laughed softly, “...Sorry, I did that on purpose..” 

Kokichi groaned, half out of petty frustration and half out of pleasure when Shuichi unraveled a knot in his neck. “...just to cut me off, hm? Jerk.” He shivered again, another kink in his muscles undid itself, making the pain dissolve little by little. 

Shuichi hummed, he was tired, but thankfully it was a Friday night and they could sleep in the next day. He let his hands fall to the banket. “...Mhm, I’m so cruel,” He patted his back as a sign he was done. “How was that? Feel better?” 

Kokichi rolled onto his side. “...no.” 

Shuichi lifted the edges of the blanket and tossed it over him. “Liar.” He chuckled, he laid his head beside his. Kokichi’s expression was now relaxed. Unlike 30 minutes ago when his face was twisted with discomfort. Shuichi’s had plenty of neck pains before, and just as much shoulder pain from immeasurable amounts of stress.

He didn’t know Kokichi stressed out to the point of awful neck and shoulder pains. His muscles were tense and achingly stiff. For the first 20 minutes, Shuichi’s fingers met rigid and tough knotted muscles. He then understood why Kokichi couldn’t sleep. Though he doesn’t understand what Kokichi is so stressed about, to the point where it physically affects him.

He went to ask but realized Kokichi’s eyes had already closed. Shuichi sighed, smiling softly. He didn’t have to know, he was happy as long as Kokichi wasn’t pained any more.

At least, not physically.


	22. #No.22 Poisoned | Drugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.22 Poisoned | Drugged]**
> 
> -Poisoning
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi has 10,000 members but has a party with his favorite 9. Of course, things go downhill.

Shuichi watched from the side.

His eyes watching one in particular. Kokichi was wearing his cape, his hat pulled onto his head, and his white uniform clean and pressed for that night. It was a night he partied with his favorite members. It had everything. The music that fits his tastes, the kind where the bass could be felt into your chest and rumble in your ears. The streamers shot everywhere, the tables were lined with the best food and drinks. 

There was dancing, the kind where people locked arms and swung in circles, laughing just as loud as the music blasting. The colored lights shone over the area, dancing with the music, bouncing with their laughs. It was a fun party, and Shuichi enjoyed watching it. 

He liked parties because the chaos that bloomed from it was always a happy sound. He was never a part of the dancing, never a part of drinking or laughing. He watched from the side and chuckled when Kokichi cracked a joke or tried to balance a wine glass on his nose. Meanwhile, his friends were pouring wine into the glass. 

Kokichi was a clown at heart. He was a natural at juggling and could hold himself on a ball longer than most. Balancing things on his nose and head was just second nature. Though Shuichi laughed when the wine glass toppled, drenching Kokichi’s head and front in rich red wine. 

Of course, Kokichi and his friends howled with laughter, someone was doubling over, and others leaning against one another for support. It seemed as though everyone had too much to drink. 

Shuichi pulled Kokichi aside after the party fizzled out, which happened when everyone started falling asleep, and the energy buzz died. His cheeks were rosy, and Shuichi couldn’t help but be distracted by his eyes. His purple eyes dazed by the drinks he’s had. He helped him change out of his sticky and stained uniform into fresh clothes, all the while Kokichi made suggestive jokes as Shuichi unclipped his clothes.

The halls of Dice’s headquarters were always nice to walk. Especially when most were sleeping and it was quiet. So Kokichi pulled him down the halls, holding his hand and giggling about nonsense Shuichi didn’t understand. 

That’s when a party cleaner stepped out and offered Kokichi the last drinks of soda. Shuichi watched Kokichi smile, and his hand reach up to pick up the glass. And watched as Kokichi tipped his head back and chugged it, his eyes sharp with gigglish flare as he set the glass back on the tray.

Shuichi’s suspicions spiked, but he didn’t listen to it. He led Kokichi back to their room. He was drunk and needed to sleep it off. 

Yet when he sat Kokichi on his bed, his face of tipsy laughter suddenly dissolved. Times like this Shuichi is half convinced his drunken act was just for fun. Because his expression grew serious, his face paling. A nervous giggle bubbled up as he looked up at Shuichi. “Aha… uh oh…” 

“Uh oh? What’s wrong?” Shuichi was just in front of him when his rosy cheeks were turning sickly blue. He didn’t think he drank that much to get sick off it.

“...the, ah…” Kokichi’s breath cut shallow. And struggled to swallow. “...could you… push the emergency button?”

Shuichi looked to the side on his bed. Kokichi had an emergency button in case his life was in danger in any way. Being a Supreme Leader of ten thousand definitely had its threat of assassination. “Why? Are you not okay?” he looked back at Kokichi who had a hand over his chest. 

Ah, he’s not okay. 

His breathing sounded painfully raspy, and the pain was staining his eyes. “...that…” He hissed, “...drink was…” the moment Kokichi couldn’t speak anymore, Shuichi grabbed at the device and pressed the button hastily. The device beeped as a sign that someone was coming. “...poisoned.” Kokichi gasped.

The hour following that, Kokichi had long since fallen unconscious. And was no sooner lying in Dice’s expert infirmary. Little did Shuichi know that Kokichi wouldn’t wake up from that sleep.

Not for a very long time. 


	23. #No.23 Narcolepsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.23 Narcolepsy]**
> 
> -Narcolepsy  
> -Cataplexy
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

The first time Shuichi ever witnessed Kokichi show signs of narcolepsy was when they were in the library together in high school. They were just picking out books for a project, and Kokichi was yapping about something so random that Shuichi tuned out. 

He turned to look at Kokichi when suddenly his voice faded off. The books in Kokichi's grip slipped through his fingers as his hands went limp, his eyes drooped closed as his head dipped forward. For one panicked moment, Shuichi thought he was going to collapse. But just before he could reach out to him, Kokichi shot a hand out to catch himself against the bookshelf.

“...Ahaha…” He laughed quietly, staring at the books lying open at his feet. “...what was I saying? Oh right!” And he kept prattling on as if nothing happened. Either blatantly ignoring Shuichi’s appalled, and obviously confused expression, or just hadn’t noticed.

He decided to hold his tongue as he kept his eye on him. At the time he didn’t know he was narcoleptic, it wasn’t even a thought that crossed his mind.

The moment he found out was when Kokichi had to fess up in front of the whole class because even the teacher had gotten worried. 

Well, he didn’t _really_ fess up. 

It was during a free period when they all could get up and do as they pleased inside the classroom. Some people worked on projects, Shuichi included, while most of his classmates mingled and chatted away. Excited to ignore work for a bit and hang out with friends. 

Shuichi had a habit of glancing up at Kokichi every so often. It’s a mindless action, his thoughts will wander and so will his eyes. They always find Kokichi in the room and will linger on him until Kokichi sees him staring, or until Kaede snaps him out of it. 

This day was no different. His chin was propped up in his palm, his sharp eyes staring at Kokichi. Once again caught distracted. Kokichi was laughing and teasing Miu like usual. Poking fun at Gonta. Skipping around Rantaro. It was when he was saying something to Rantaro that the hands pulled behind his head dropped, and his shoulder sunk, that Shuichi sat up alert.

Kokichi stopped talking, his eyes fell shut and he stumbled back two steps before Rantaro caught him by the arm and lowered him enough so he sat on the floor leaning against a desk. His head hung, his hair fell over his face, and the classroom redirected its attention to Kokichi.

Shuichi had stood up, staring worriedly at him. Rantaro looked just as confused, but at least he was calmer than Gonta who was frantically wishing to be closer to make sure Kokichi was okay. But realized he shouldn’t and left to get a teacher instead. Three minutes of chaotic classmates went by, the teacher came in, everyone was talking in hushed whispers or loudly voicing their begrudged concern when Kokichi opened his eyes.

“Geez, I’m flattered you all were mourning me but I’m not dead yet.”

Shuichi exhaled out of relief. Usually collapsing on short notice was never a good thing, but his voice seemed level, and he was on his feet before Tenko could start accusing him of faking it. The teacher was the first to wag a finger at him, but he only smiled and sat down at his desk, crossing one leg over the other. 

“I just fall asleep sometimes, no biggy!” 

He waved off his classmates' nagging voices. Laughing it off, but stopped when Shuichi spoke.

It seemed so obvious then. “Kokichi, you’re narcoleptic?”

Kokichi laughed in response. “No silly! I just felt like blacking out for a moment to watch you all panic. Good to know some of you don’t hate to the core.”

Ah, so that would be a yes.

Occurrences like that happened from time to time. Sometimes in the middle of class, a loud thunk would sound during a lecture and all heads would turn to Kokichi limp at his desk. Other times during gym he would stop anything he was doing just so he could sit down with his head in his hands. Usually laughing as he does to get people off his back. 

These happenings would last from a couple of seconds to five minutes, and anything in between. Though Kokichi constantly denied it, it was common knowledge to the class that Kokichi suffered from narcolepsy. After a while, it became normal to have Kokichi blank out on them. 

After much research, he deduced that Kokichi gets “sleep attacks” up to three times a day, which at most, would be 21 sleep attacks by the end of the week. Despite Kokichi acting so uppity all the time, and insisting his issue go ignored, those attacks must be exhausting to deal with.

It wasn’t until after high school that they were ever romantically involved with one another.

Kokichi stayed in contact with him during their first years at college, and regularly ‘hung out’ on a weekly basis. Those hangouts were practically dates. The more they got to know one another, the more Shuichi noticed Kokichi acknowledging his condition. 

“I bet you half my allowance I won’t make it through the first hour.” Kokichi laughed as he swung his feet back and forth. He was lying on his stomach on the couch, swiping through his phone as Shuichi sat in the small space Kokichi let him have. “No scratch that, I bet my life savings.”

Shuichi chuckled. He reached over and patted his head, “Alright, I get it, but it isn’t as though you sleep in. I say catch up on the class you blanked out on sooner rather than later. You’ll only miss a minute or two even if you do konk out.” 

“Mm, fine.” Kokichi sat up and crawled himself into Shuichi’s lap. “I’ll only behave if you let me have the car.” He said, his eyes wide and lips pursed. Shuichi hated it when he did that because he won’t deny it was cute, but he doesn’t bend to his boyfriend's wishes all the time. 

“I’d feel better if I drove you.” Kokichi only stuck his tongue out at him. “I’m serious.” Shuichi pressed, “I don’t want to risk you nodding off. It only takes a second on the road to mess up.” 

Kokichi whined. “I’ve driven loads of times before! All times I survived.”

“You drove illegally.”

“Still lived!”

Shuichi sighed. He looked at Kokichi with all the sincerity he had. “...Please don’t. Your doctor highly advised you don’t. And I trust a professional over you.” 

Kokichi gasped. “How disloyal can you be?” Shuichi shook his head. He wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss into his cheek. 

“...very, if caring for your safety is disloyal.” He looked at him sadly, “I’ll wake up early to drive you to class. So we have plenty of time to get there, and you won’t be late again. Okay? Please don’t go behind my back and take the keys.” He held up a pinky because Kokichi always seals promises that way. “Promise?”

Kokichi stared at his raised pinky and reached up to lock his pinky with his. “Pinky promise.” He giggled, shaking it with an affirmative bounce of his hand. 

It wasn’t until the next morning that Shuichi found his keys absent from his pocket, and Kokichi’s bed empty with the car missing, that he realized his fingers were crossed. 


	24. #No.24 Forced Mutism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.24 Forced Mutism]**
> 
> -Hunting  
> -Implied Future Death
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't manage to finish the whump prompts in October but I will finish the rest in November. Thanks for reading so far!

Through quickened and wheezing gasps of air, Shuichi nearly tripped taking a sharp left down an alleyway. Kokichi’s hands gripped the back of his shirt tight, shoving him further. They weren’t done running just yet. And despite Kokichi’s legs being shorter, he could really run. Faster than Shuichi could ever keep up with.

He supposes it’s because Kokichi grew up forced on his feet, in order to survive he needed to be quick on his toes. He was. And fortunately, he knew Shuichi very much wasn’t.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Kokichi wheezed, keeping a death grip on Shuichi so he could stay by his side. Shuichi coughed, it was strained and hurt his lungs but they had to keep running. One foot thumping in front of the other. With the chaotic sounds of blaring sirens behind them. The adrenaline pumping through Shuichi could hardly measure up to how much panic was dealing with.

Nerves shocked through him each time his foot hit the ground. Kokichi knew these allies like the back of his own hand, so all he had to do was run, don’t think, just run. He was ever so grateful for Kokichi’s loyalty, his remarkable endurance to yank his deadweight through these buildings. Even when Shuichi stumbled, even when his ankle twisted when they jumped from a ledge, Kokichi always turned and grabbed Shuichi with the strength he didn’t know he had.

The split second the sirens and shouts of angry mobs became distant, Kokichi hastily clutched Shuichi’s hand and jerked him into a deserted building. Slamming his back against a wall of a closet, and pressing himself against his chest as he shut the door over them. 

Shuichi gasped and shuttered, his body trembling from overexertion and overwhelming stress. “K-Ko-Kokichi…” He huffed, only to feel Kokichi throw a hand over his mouth.

“...Breathe,” He whispered. Shuichi stared at him through the pitch darkness of the closet. Kokichi didn’t seem out of breath at all. “...don’t double over, in through your nose, out your mouth.” He strictly ordered. “...Slowly. Alright? Your heart will slow and you won’t be so loud...”    
  


Shuichi nodded, and Kokichi dropped his hand. His arms and hands still trembled from panic. He felt so lightheaded from the lack of air. But he did breathe. He breathed deeply and tried to be quiet. As he did, he wrapped his arms around Kokichi. He expected him to stiffen up, after all, they were running for their lives.

But Kokichi embraced it, gripping the back of his shirt and resting his head in the crook of his neck. Sweat dripped off their chins and soaked their clothes. Dirt was caked at their shoes and hands. Both of their knees were bloodied from falling and tripping. The smell in the small closet was atrocious, but they didn’t care. 

“...how long should we wait?” Shuichi whispered. His breath was still shallow, and Kokichi still worriedly pressed his finger to his lips. 

“...the ultimate hunt is thorough…” Kokichi whispered. His voice was so small that Shuichi had to place his ear beside his lips to hear. “...we’ll stay until…” He looked to the crack in the closet doors. “...until I feel like they’re gone.”

Kokichi had a good sense of intuition. Shuichi trusted it more than he ever trusted himself. Since the supreme leader had to learn bad air from good fast, he could sense if the coast was clear or not. Little logic carried them to safety, but if it worked, Shuichi would have to believe in it. Because so far it’s got them out alive by the skin of their teeth.

“Kokichi…” Shuichi whispered, still making Kokichi’s fingers itch nervously at his lips to keep him silent. “...if we get caught,”

“...Don’t say that.”

“I know, I know… but if.” Shuichi breathed so softly that his own words sounded like gentle wisps of a breeze. “...will you promise to stay alive? No matter what?”

At that, Kokichi fit his hand over his mouth again. His fingers dug into his cheek, making tears of pain bubble in Shuichi’s eyes. Before he would cry out, he heard footsteps thundering down the hall. The closet they hid in was tucked in the divet behind a coat rack. He held his breath, his lungs screaming the longer he allowed his face to turn blue. 

Kokichi did the same, Shuichi could feel his chest cease a rising rhythm, and his lips squeezing shut. Frustrated voices echoed throughout the hall. They went upstairs and Shuichi could hear them banging through doors and ripping apart furniture. He never gripped Kokichi so tight. He pressed him close to his chest as if they’d grow smaller. 

At one point, though Shuichi was uncertain when, Kokichi lifted his head with one hand still over Shuichi’s mouth.

“...I’ll try. Shuichi.”

The angry footsteps grew closer.

“...I’ll try.”


	25. #No.25 Disorientation | Blurred Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:**
> 
> **[#No.25 Disorientation | Blurred Vision]**
> 
> -Hurt/Comfort
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 out of 10 on the angst scale, enjoy the read!

In the early morning at the crack of dawn, he usually wakes up with his eyes closed.

He sleeps on his back most nights, because after working day in and day out it’s easy to fall back on his bed, close his eyes, and fall asleep. Exhaustion had become a part of his life, and his concealer had become his best friend when it came to covering the dark swatches under his eyes.

Last night wore him out. Not only because he attended a party, but because he for once allowed his boyfriend to stay over.

Shuichi fumbled a hand over his dresser to find where his phone rested. Fortunately, he woke up before his alarm, he clicked it off and turned his head. His eyes were still blurry from fresh morning tears as he yawned. “...I gotta go to work…” He whispered, lifting a heavy hand to run his fingers through wild purple hair.

Kokichi’s head laid over his chest, one arm draped over Shuichi’s waist and curved around his hip. While his other arm was tucked against his chest. Shuichi hummed, sighing as he noticed his lack of response. He tried to shift him off, hoping to slip away without disturbing him, but the hand over his hip tightened and Kokichi wiggled his foot to hook around Shuichi’s ankle. 

“...no you don’t.” He muttered, trailing his hand from his hip to his chest. “...have a day off. Spend time with me…” His purple eyes opened halfway. “...you have been leaving your boyfriend very, very lonely lately.”

Shuichi frowned, he turned and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “...I know, I’m sorry,” He tried to blink away the blur in his eyes but this morning it seemed to stay. “...but I can’t just not show up to work.” 

“...yes you can.”

Shuichi chuckled. “...Kich…” He went to pry his hand off his chest, but those small slim fingers clung to his shirt. “...You’re...serious?”

He looked into Kokichi’s disorientated morning eyes. He saw longing polluting them, a desire for him to stay. It wasn’t just a simple want, it was as if he’d been starved of his company for far too long. “...yes.” He whispered. “...yes I really want you to stay.”

The honestly coming from him told Shuichi that Kokichi was still waking up. In early mornings like this, he’ll speak without thinking. At least, not thinking in complex lies or ulterior motives. This made Shuichi sigh. It’s true he hasn’t spent time with him in weeks. He did warn him that he was a busy person, but it truly was unfair of him to neglect the relationship as a whole.

Kokichi has been lonely, and Shuichi has been ignoring that.

“One day… Saihara,” He said, shifting so he could sit up a little and look down at him. With the blanket over his shoulders, casting a shadow on him below. “...That’s all I want.”

Shuichi stared up at him. The more he gazed at those tired eyes, the more guilt weighed in his chest. He reached up to cup his face in his warm palm. “...okay,” He whispered, watching his purple eyes soften in relief, “...I’ll give my day to you.” He reached over and picked up his phone as Kokichi laid back down beside him.

As much as Shuichi enjoyed his job, and completing his work. Nothing could amount to how much he loved Kokichi's smile as he called into work, saying he had important family issues to attend to. 

It was bold to call Kokichi his family, but after dating so long, and having no interest in anyone else, he felt happy to pull the blanket back over them and wrap his arms around the only true family he had.


	26. #No.26 Blindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.26 Blindness]**
> 
> -Blindness  
> -Hurt/No Comfort
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

He knows only his lips the best.

They are the first things he feels in the morning against his cheek, trailing to his jaw, and then over his lips when he turns and embraces the touch. They are the delicate sensation he feels on his neck when he’s been working too long, and he wants his company. Those pairs of lips are the warm, soft contact he likes against his skin.

His hands are the second things he knows. They are the small and slim fingers that help him straighten his tie. They are the warm palms that push against his when they lock hands. They are the gentle strokes through his hair, they are the tender caress across his cheek. They are the first things he wants to grasp because it grounds him.

He knows his hair by the silk touch it gives. He knows his neck by the curve of his jaw to the crook of his shoulder. He knows his chest, where his own fingers detect the place where his heartbeats, and feels the palpitations, smiling each time at the gentle rhythm. He knows his cheeks, the round and soft curvature of his face.

He knows his nose, and where on his face his dimples wedge, and where his skin wrinkles when he smiles. He knows the arches of his eyebrows, he traces them many times while talking to him. How they go up when he’s laughing, how when he’s telling a lie, they’ll furrow inward. It was only a slight twitch of a muscle, but it was there.

Shuichi knows the bones of his hips, how they are more noticeable. He knows his ribs and how obvious they feel. His collarbone is the same. To which, he asks if he eats enough, but Kokichi always replies with yes. A lie. 

He knows even things people don’t expect. Like his smile, he knows the difference between a real and fake one. He knows his hands shake when he’s nervous. He knows there’s a scar on his finger. He knows his eyes are purple, though since he’s never seen the color, it’s hard to imagine. 

He’s never seen color, he’s never seen the sun set or rise. He knows the warmth he feels from the sun, and on the days or nights Kokichi takes him to the sunset, he closes his eyes and feels the warmth slowly fade. He imagines It’s like a big bonfire slowly dying to embers. Though he knows the sun is circular and sinks into whatever horizon. 

He thinks in touch. He thinks spatially. Kokichi always wonders what it’s like in a world of no color, not even black or white. Shuichi always tells him it’s not as complicated as it sounds. And yet he can’t precisely explain it himself, at least not in a way Kokichi would understand.

“If you could wish for anything in the world…” Kokichi began, “...what would it be?”

He was sitting in Shuichi’s lap. His head resting in the crook of his neck. Shuichi felt each exhale hit his skin, and how his soft hair brushed against his cheek and ear. Tickling around his jaw and lower neck. He imagined Kokichi’s hair was wild or curly because that’s what it felt like.

“...what do you think I would wish for?” He said back, his voice soft and sincere. He lifted his hand to touch Kokichi’s cheek delicately. Gently stroking that tender skin that felt akin to a peach. “...I would give anything, anything at all, to see you for the first time…” He pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. 

“...I’m not much to look at.” Kokichi chuckled. Though his voice was heavy as if he truly believed it. 

“Mm, I disagree.” He traced his gentle fingers through his hair because he knows Kokichi likes it. “...to me, you’d be everything and more to see. More than any sunset, and starry night, any bundle of flowers. I would go straight to you.” 

Kokichi sighed. “...You know, I could be dating you to steal your money, or because…” His voice faded off. Shuichi felt his jaw move, where he felt his teeth were gnawing over his lip. It was normal for them to sit so unnaturally close to each other. Usually, they talk knitted together under a blanket, or in one another laps like now. 

Just so Shuichi could feel his face for any signs of sorrow, or anger. If he feels tears, or if he feels tension, he’ll know how to better approach the conversation. He can’t help but be grateful to Kokichi for allowing this. Even if it had been going on for a long while. Shuichi never thought anyone would allow him to touch their face, it was rude and annoying. Or so Shuichi assumed with Kokichi.

But Kokichi was the one who guided his hand to his cheek, he was the one to tell Shuichi it was okay to feel. So he did, and he can’t help but think Kokichi likes it. He’s felt him relax under his touch, so it must be soothing for him. Afterall, only Shuichi did this. “...because?” He echoed.

He lightly felt the tension in his chin, the way it seemed he was biting his lip. “...Because I would know whenever you’d tell me I’m beautiful, I’d know it’s a lie.” 

Shuichi’s hand paused over his lips. “...do you still think that?”

Kokichi turned his head away from him. Shuichi took that as his answer.

“...I may not be able to see you, but I can feel.” He assured him. “...It’s just another way of seeing.”

He shook his head. The tension in his chin was firmer, usually, this happened when he was about to cry. “You’re blind.” He said, his voice cracking slightly. “You won’t ever see me. You won’t ever know what I look like, that’s why I’m with you Shuichi. Can’t you get that through your head?” 

His eyebrows twitched. Shuichi sighed. Kokichi had immense insecurities about his looks. That was obvious from the first time he met him, the way he asked if he could see at all, making sure that his vision was dead as a whole. Maybe in the beginning Kokichi was with him to not be so lonely. But… now he knows that’s not it.

“...That’s a lie.” He said without a doubt. “...You care about me, I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t help pick out make-up for me and put it on. You wouldn’t guide me out of the way of poles on the sidewalk, or learn braille for me just so you can give me little notes in your absence. You wouldn’t let me touch your face… You do so much for me, stop trying to make yourself out to be the bad guy again…”

Kokichi huffed out a frustrated breath. “...I’m not trying to. But when you would use your only wish for me, I think it’s wasteful.”

He drew little circles against his cheek as he pondered. Kokichi has gotten better with his insecurities, but still brushes Shuichi off when he says he’s handsome, or pretty. “...well it’s my wish, and I’ll use it however I want to.” 

“Well, if I had a wish,” Kokichi’s voice still trembled. “...I’d wish you’d stay blind forever.” 

Shuichi’s hands dropped from his face completely. It was petty, but a pang of hurt passed through his heart. The kind that stings at first, but resonates with a heavy ache after. He knows Kokichi being selfish, he knows he also will back his claim up with the world being an ugly place, a place he doesn’t need to see. 

But it still hurt. Kokichi muttered something about making them dinner and slid off his lap. Though he knew that was a lie. Shuichi pulled his knees closed to his chest. He was born blind, so he never grew up with the jealousy to see. Since he never saw what there was to be jealous of.

Until he met Kokichi. With just his fingers feels handsome. Pretty. Beautiful. He knows his nose is small and centered on his face, he knows his lips are small, and his teeth are crooked, but it was charming. He had a strong jaw and a slim neck, he was beautiful. 

And yet if he had one wish, he’d wish away Shuichi’s one true desire.

It can’t help but hurt.


	27. #No.27 Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:**
> 
> **[#No.27 Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage]**
> 
> -Natural Disaster  
> -Earthquake  
> -Animal Death  
> -Greif
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

Kokichi hates earthquakes, he really does. 

The land of their birth, Japan, was a beautiful place made up of four main islands.

It had everything it was known for, sakura trees, the overabundance of anime and things with faces on them, Tokyo, sushi, it’s culture, all things that attract Americans, Canadians, and Europeans alike. Of course, the same for a plethora of other countries too. 

What Kokichi gets a kick out of most, is hearing foreigners say ‘I would love to live in Japan’. What most of them overlook is Japan's notorious every-bad-thing-that-can-happen history.

They live surrounded by water. They suffer floods and typhoons, mostly known for the horrific tsunamis that have hit in the past. They endure earthquakes, cyclones, and even volcanic eruptions with their own set of stratovolcanic archipelagos. Yearly, they get 1500 earthquakes. They get multiple tremors daily, and maybe once or twice in a lifetime, they’ll get a horrendous earthquake, that triggers a tsunami, that leaves in floods. Better yet if it’s monsoon season. 

To top it off, Japan sits in the ring of fire. The most active place for earthquakes. 20 percent of their earthquakes hit on a 6.0 magnitude or more.

So yes, Japan is a lovely place to live. If you're willing to risk killing your future generations with natural disasters alone. Kokichi wouldn’t suggest the anime and culture is worth it. It’s like dancing with the devil, you get to live in a dream country, but have your life threatened yearly. 

Most people aren’t so sour about it. Afterall, the country has had centuries upon centuries of dealing with the same chaos. They had procedures, they had back up plans. They weren’t clueless. But unlike most people, Kokichi experienced his first bad earthquake when he was a kid. Of course, many children around his age did, but he suffered a lifelong consequence from it.

Years ago, on a Sunday morning, everyone was going about their lives. In Kokichi’s home, he was coloring on the floor with his parents somewhere close by, his mother was watching him. His father was in another room. It was peaceful, Kokichi hadn’t drawn on the walls yet, his mother had her coffee and was now writing her book. She was an author, and always read Kokichi her small stories.

His father worked multiple jobs. He doesn’t remember what they were, but he knows he left a lot.

He remembered that moment. He picked up a blue crayon in his small little fingers. He had just looked up to his mother, who was standing by her desk filing some paper when a sudden large jolt shook the entire house. 

His mother grabbed the lip of her desk to catch herself, and he heard his father rustling in the other room. Not too many seconds later, the floor beneath him started shaking again, the whole house trembling and quaking with it. Strong and violent, he sat up in alarm while his mother called out to him.

The papers flew off the desks, the plates in the kitchen were crashing to the floor as sirens in the blurred distance started screaming. Such powerful jerks and trembles groaned around him. 

In his memory, that’s where it cut off, his mother yelling, his absent father, the shaking that shook down to his bones. What happened after was blocked from his memory. They lived on a hill, where the dirt had come loose. From what he was told, the landslide had destroyed half his home. The side he was on was ruined, but safe. 

The side his parents were on was completely buried.

He knows he got hurt at some point, there's a scar on his arm to show for that. Though he can’t remember. He can’t remember how, or when the landslide came. How he got cut, how he acted afterward. For a good portion of that moment, his mind deleted it’s memory. Maybe that was for the best.

It’s been 13 years since the last awful earthquake. 13 years of living his life orphaned, and what little blessings came from that. But also, 13 years of slowly discovering a little love life, and an official two years of being very involved in that said love life.

“Kokichi!” 

Shuichi Saihara, his boyfriend of those very lovely two years, called out to him. Kokichi clicked pause on his game and looked in the direction of the front door. “What?” Around the corner came Shuichi, his arms weighed down by groceries and that look of strain on his face. 

“Please help me.” He pleaded. After running low on food and supplies, Shuichi lost a bet to Kokichi on who was going to restock. Of course, he lost the bet. He always loses no matter what game he plays.

Kokichi chuckled, “Okay, but only if you play this game with me after.” He popped up on his feet and scooped up bags from Shuichi’s trembling arms to carry them into the kitchen. 

“Ah,” Shuichi looked at the time, “I can’t play the game Kich, I promised Kaede I would hang out with her today.” He heaved his load of bagged food onto the counter. Muttering a soft thanks to Kokichi who started searching for his soda to stuff into the fridge. “I can maybe play tonight?”

“Boo.” Kokichi stuck out his tongue. “Okay fine, it’s Kaede’s lucky day anyway, I was planning on blowing up her house.” He stuck some milk into the fridge with a light laugh. “I would never do that if you’re inside.” He watched Shuichi roll his eyes, that fond smile on his lips as he opened a bag to put away.

“Good to know I’m the exception.” 

“Mm, you have to suffer through me every day,” He went through a bag and found grape flavored lollipops. Ah, so Shuichi did get what he asked for. He unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth as he took a bag of apples to stuff away. “I wouldn’t want to torture you more, I’m not that cruel.” 

“Mm, maybe not cruel but did you feed the cat?”

“I will in a second.”

He and Shuichi lived together, both 19 going on 20. They met on the train when Shuichi fell asleep on his shoulder two years ago. Kokichi was absolutely rude and blatantly stared at such a strikingly handsome boy, and somehow managed to score a date with him a week later. He was a near stranger, and Shuichi looked obviously uncomfortable, but the nervous boy probably felt rude to say no, so he said yes.

They dated for three months before Shuichi kissed him. They dated for six more months before they first slept together, and then dated another nine months. A year and a half into it, Shuichi bought an apartment and asked if Kokichi wanted to share it. Now, another six months later, they lived in a small apartment with Shuichi’s cat.

Shuichi cherished slow relationships. It showed in the way he kissed him, how he’ll approach slowly, pressing his lips to his and taking his time to deepen the gesture until Kokichi lying dazed on the couch, tracing his lips where Shuichi had blessed him with an enrapturing kiss. Even when he hugs him, he gently wraps his arms around Kokichi and squeezes lovingly. 

And although Kokichi was more of a fan of a quicker pace, he learned to love the sincerity slowness had. Or at least the kind of slow Shuichi had. 

They finished putting away the groceries, it was Saturday afternoon, Kokichi had just teasingly poked Shuichi’s cheek with his lollipop when a sharp jerk shocked the entire apartment.

The moment was on a standstill, Kokichi dropped his lollipop, and Shuichi’s eyes widened. They both froze. Before they could say anything, fierce shaking corrupted the entire apartment, no doubt the entire complex. As if someone had taken the building with two hands and shook it violently. Kokichi’s face paled as Shuichi grabbed him.

They both were sent to the ground. The furious tremors jerked the ground beneath them so much that moving was impossible. What horrified Kokichi the most was that they were in the kitchen, plates were tumbling out of cabinets, utensils were jumping out of their cupboard, and clattering to the floor. 

The whole room seemed to sway back and forth. There was the sound of ear-splitting glass from their lights on the ceiling falling to the floor. The sound of their shelf in the living room hit the window, with glass shattering followed by wood splintering.

Then it stopped.

Kokichi exhaled, his hands shaking just as much as Shuichi’s were. “Are you okay? Shuichi?” Shuichi had protected him mostly from the falling plates and large amounts of kitchen debris. But from Shuichi’s pained face, he wasn’t okay.

“...No, but, it’s just a few cuts.” He murmured, getting off of Kokichi and carefully maneuvering where the glass wasn’t. Unfortunately for Kokichi, he was barefoot. “Aftershocks should be coming soon, we need to relocate somewhere that isn’t the kitchen.” He winced as he stood up. Kokichi saw blood dripping from his shoulder, where a plate must have crashed into him. 

Noticing Kokichi was barefoot, he hurriedly picked him up to carry him over the glass crunching beneath his feet. He set him down in a clean area, where he left to find some shoes. 

The aftershocks came, they weren’t as bad, but still frightening when your adrenaline is pumping. Kokichi looked in every room. Chaos hit everything. Their TV had fallen off the wall and shattered on the floor. So had the coffee maker, and the blender and all fragile things bounced and shattered. 

The ceiling had a dangerous and obvious crack running from the kitchen to the living room. Dust fell from the rupture, as did drops of water. The bathroom was equally a mess. The glass holding their toothbrushes was broken, the bar holding up the curtain to the shower had fallen, luckily Shuichi’s anxiety medication survived and he was quick to scoop it up along with a spare bandage. 

“Shuichi!” he called out, the lights on the ceiling began flickering, and with one loud electric pop they went out. “...damn,” He stared at the ceiling squinting through the darkened hall. “Shuichi?” He pulled out his phone that was at half battery and clicked on its flashlight. “Shuichi I have some bandages.” 

Still no answer. Kokichi peeked into the rooms, he knew he was okay. At least he should be. He shone his flashlight in their bedroom, where his light caught blue hair. “Shuichi? Hey, I got some…” as he walked in he stopped, Shuichi’s shoulders were trembling, and his head was bowed forward. “Hey, what's…” 

He looked over his shoulder. 

Oh god.

Shuichi cradled his cat. Kokichi wanted to say that she would be fine, but her leg was horribly broken, and her feline body was completely limp. Shuichi held her close, tears rolling down his cheeks. “...She didn’t make it,” He cried, his voice broken and just as shattered as the glass in their home. “...She didn’t…” 

She was his therapy cat. The cat cuddled him every night when he was panicky and anxious. He would come home to her and she would rub his leg in greeting. Now her white fur was specked in blood, and her body was lifeless. Shuichi didn’t want to let go. Kokichi knelt beside him. He didn’t know what to say, he lost his parents and the best thing anyone told him was to get over it.

He saw the cat bed she always slept in and picked it up to place it before them “...c’mon Shuichi, lay her down.” He said, patting the bed like he always did when he wanted her to lie next to him. “...let her be comfy until we can handle her properly.”

He stroked her little head one more time and laid her down. Shuichi silently reached over to the crumbled cat blanket on the floor and draped it over her. Tears were still rolling down his face, he was biting his lip hard to keep from making a sound. Kokichi wasn’t as attached as Shuichi was, but it still made his heart hurt. 

They tried to clean up best they could, but Shuichi sat by the cat bed most of the time. Kokichi got their battery-run radio to listen to any updates. Turns out the streets were flooded. Bridges and buildings collapsed, power was out for half of the island. And it was reported to be on an 8.1 magnitude. 

They were on the outskirts of the earthquake. Not close to where most of the destruction was. 

So plans were canceled, Kokichi did most of the work for half the time. Sweeping up debris and listening to the news while he told Shuichi to take it easy. He was still crying. Kokichi found his favorite book among the mess. Though he would ask for his help, he allowed him to mourn his pet. 

Eventually, Shuichi helped out, his face red with tears but he grabbed a broom to take his mind off things. He didn’t talk much, but he did steal Kokichi away from the mess for a moment. Hugging him tightly for comfort. Kokichi allowed himself to be held as long as he needed. The lights were still out, the apartment was a mess. And they lost a little innocent family member.

He sighed, burying his head in his neck. Embracing him tightly. 

Tomorrow they would have to figure out what to do.

But for now, they sank to the floor in silence. Pained, and tired. Holding the radio between them. 

Kokichi hates earthquakes. He really does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably not that sad but the cat deaths are the only deaths that make me cry. I hope you enjoyed this, it hurt to make :D


	28. #No.28 Accident | Hunting Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> **[#No.28 Accident | Hunting Season]**
> 
> -Gunshot Wounds  
> -Hunting  
> -Implied Murders
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

Gunshots rang out across the night sky.

Oh, he hates this season. 

He sat on the bay window. His ears flat with distaste and his senses heightened. He always wondered why humans felt the need to hunt. Even when it was entirely unnecessary. At least in this area. Where food could easily be picked up at a store or market. But he supposed it was like playing tug of war, there is no good reason, it was just fun.

“Shuichi, someone’s going to see you.” 

He blinked tired eyes at Kokichi, turning his head to see him peeking in at the doorway. “I know.” He said softly, turning to look back at the sky, hearing the muffled sound of guns going off, echoing around the valley, and through the trees. “...I just wanted to see the stars,” He looked up. Unfortunately, streams of clouds blocked most of them.

Kokichi walked across the bedroom floor and sat beside Shuichi. “...your tail is tucked between your legs.” He pointed out. Shuichi glanced at him worriedly, his hands fiddling with his fluffy tail nervously. 

“...It’s hunting season.” He murmured. “...I can’t go outside and see the stars as I wanted.” 

Kokichi sighed and reached up to run his hands through his hair. Lightly stroking his ears. They used to be fluffier when he was younger, by 16 they lost their pup fluff and became more coarse. Though Kokichi still claims it’s soft. Which made him happy. “We can still walk in the woods,” He offered, “You just have to be fully human.”

His ears fell flat again. Shuichi was a werewolf, except unlike the myths and tales, he doesn’t lose control on the full moon. He isn’t covered in hair. He doesn’t have a craving to feast on fresh meat. Nor does he have violent swings of aggression. Rather, on full moons he feels more connected to his wolf side, he is only ever furry when transformed, and he doesn’t like the taste of raw meat.

On nights where the wind is rolling over the trees, and the air is warm with a touch of the cold breeze. He’s craving to run through the woods, and roll around in the wildflowers. He’s still a pup, since he’s half-human he grows much slower than a usual wolf. Only 18 and he still isn’t fully grown. He will be in just a year or so. 

“...no, it’s okay.” He sighed, Kokichi’s fingers still ran through his hair, and he couldn’t help but lean against his hand as he scratched the sides of his ears, where he knows it gets itchy. “...I’m not fully healed, so let’s not risk another injury.” 

Kokichi hummed, his hands fell from his head to gently rest on his shoulder. “...Alright, can I look at it? It should be scabbing over by now…” Kokichi eyed him, and Shuichi nodded. He took up the hem of his shirt and pulled his over his head. 

Undressing to a minimal amount always made Kokichi look away for a brief moment. As if he was shy. Bare skin or nakedness never bothered Shuichi, he thinks it’s because he was born into a pack of half wolves that stayed wolves for most of the time. And when they were human, they wore no clothes. 

Shuichi’s pack was killed when he was 14. He was adopted by his uncle who was only human but knew his people, and his culture.

“...Mm, seems okay.” Kokichi murmured, lightly touched a finger near the large scab burrowed into his chest. “It’s not too sensitive anymore, does it still hurt?” 

Shuichi looked down at himself. Two weeks ago he was in the woods when he was shot by a hunter. Fortunately, it wasn’t fatal. It missed his heart by inches, but it hurt badly. He had managed to make it to his uncle's house where he collapsed out of pain. After quickly shifting into a human form he was taken to the hospital. The stitching was removed just days ago and was now healing properly.

“...Hurts a little to move,” he said, prodding the scab lightly, only whimpering when Kokichi pressed too hard, “...but otherwise I’m okay.” 

Kokichi hummed again, his eyes were tired. Worn by the days and nights he would spend worrying. Bags sat under his eyes in the shallow graves of his skin, and his posture drooped with exhaustion. He might have no ears or tail, but it was clear he needed sleep. 

Shuichi slipped his shirt back on again. Then reached over to pull Kokichi against him. His body was heavy. It was night, and the moon was crossing the sky. Shuichi pulled him into his lap and rubbed his cheek against his. Kokichi giggled lightly. “...You wanna give me your puppy love?” He asked, turning to catch Shuichi’s sharp golden eyes.

“...Mm, maybe,” He smiled, catching Kokichi’s lip between his teeth for a moment. A light tug and he released, doing the same to his ear, and his cheek. The humans called this nibbling, Shuichi called it kisses. But between humans and wolves, those were very different. He stopped after he got carried away and licked his neck, Kokichi reeled back in a fit of tired giggles and a sound of disgust. “Sorry…” he whispered, “I forget humans don’t like that.” 

Kokichi sighed, “Eh, well, maybe some, but this human doesn’t.” Though he was against it, his dreary tone sounded happy. He turned and pressed a human kiss to his cheek. “...you also forget humans sleep at night.” He reminded him, “I can’t stay up all night as you can…”

Shuichi can sleep a human schedule. The past four years he’s had to adapt to it. Yet he finds he can’t sleep at night as well. So he naps frequently both in the day and night. “...right,” He muttered, “Why are you here and not your den?”

“You mean bed.”

“...bed, den, same thing.”

Kokichi chuckled and sighed. “I wanted to check up on you, make sure you aren’t going to get seen by anyone through the window…” He looked outside as if to double-check. But the night was still, and the land empty. “...seems like the coast is clear.” He crawled out of Shuichi’s embrace and held his wrist, “For now…” He gave him a light tug. “...come to sleep with me?” 

He pulled Shuichi off the bay window. “Okay, I need a nap anyway,” He agreed, allowing Kokichi to drag him to his bed. Where Kokichi let Shuichi crawl onto the mattress first.

“Sleep human tonight,” Kokichi said with a tired chuckle. “You’re easier to cuddle that way.” 

Shuichi obliged and laid his head on the pillow. He had to learn how to interact with, not only a pure-blood human his age but also how to show affection as a human. There's no nipping, or licking, or rubbing or play wrestling. Which at first Shuichi was sad about, because that's how he shows love. It’s like telling a human they couldn’t kiss, hug, or hold hands with a lover.

Kokichi reinforces human rules. He shows Shuichi how to be less wolf-like. Because his kind is being hunted. There's a hunt day in, and day out. It’s legal because wolf-humans are not seen as creatures with feelings. They are seen as savage monsters. A wolf in sheep's clothing, if you will.

Kokichi curled up beside him. As much as Shuichi sees wolves and humans are very different things, there are similarities. When Kokichi curls up with him, it’s like sleeping in a pack. Shuichi loves the nostalgic feeling. Though Kokichi still has to teach him how to hold him correctly, he’s happy he’s his mate. 

“...Kokichi?” He whispered, bringing his arms around him just as he taught. It never came naturally for him to cuddle like a human. His uncle never taught him that. 

“...yes Shuichi?”

He nudged his cheek with his nose, whimpering lightly. “...will I ever be free to be wolf-like?” It’s such a strange thing to ask. It’s a term he picked up from Kokichi. To him, it sounds as if he’s asking ‘will I ever be free to be what I am?’. 

Kokichi hummed, his exhaustion slowly getting the best of him. He cupped Shuichi’s face and nipped his cheek. “...I don’t know, Shuichi.” He whispered, “...I don’t know.” 

Despite Kokichi being a pure-blooded human, he nipped, rubbed, and wrestled like a wolf. Although Shuichi had to teach him that behavior, he learned quickly. But he refused to lick. Humans must really hate licking.

“...will you be by my side forever?” He asked, he watched Kokichi close his eyes, and his breathing level out. Though he wasn’t asleep yet. 

“...I’ll try,” He murmured. Burying his head into the crook of his neck. Shuichi whimpered again, this time because he was sad. 

Wolves mated for life. Or at least, the alpha did. But with no pack, that instinct still ran in Shuichi’s blood. Humans sometimes mate for life, and sometimes they don’t. From what Shuichi observed, some humans split off to find others. Some humans remain without a mate. Others have gone through many mates. 

He doesn’t understand humans completely. Perhaps their instinct varies on their genetics. Or how they were treated as pups. Shuichi often worries that Kokichi’s instinct is to split off and find a new mate. Though when he asks, Kokichi himself doesn’t give a definite answer. “...you’ll try?” he echoed, his heart had already been hurting from being torn from his pack, torn from his culture, all he wants to hear is that his mate will stay. 

Kokichi gave a small nod. “...you can sense when I lie.” That was true. “...if I said yes, you’d sense a lie. If I said no, you’d sense another lie.” 

Shuichi wrinkled his nose. “What does that mean?” He asked earnestly, “What does ‘I’ll try’ mean? I don’t understand.” 

“Shh…” Kokichi hushed, “...calm down. It means I’ll do everything I can to stay, but I can’t promise anything.” 

“...why not?” His voice cracked, “...I want you to say you’ll stay. I don’t want you to leave.”

Kokichi rubbed his thumb against his cheek. Any means of rubbing always soothed Shuichi to some degree. He rubbed his cheek against his neck, his face, and nipped his cheek and his lip. He was trying to reassure him, and it was slowly working. Shuichi let him run his fingers through his hair and scratch at his ears. 

Soon that dissolved into human affection. The more tired Kokichi wore out, the more kisses he pressed against his bitten skin, the more he caressed his face and wrapped his arms around him. 

“...For now,” He whispered, “...for now I would never, ever leave you.”

Shuichi felt the warmth of reassuring happiness fill his chest. His tail wagging in tired happy bounces. He sensed Kokichi finally doze off after that, his body heavy and asleep. Shuichi stoked his hair, pressing human kisses to his forehead as Kokichi taught. 

Though long after Kokichi fell asleep, Shuichi lay awake holding him. Cradling him against his body. With two words burning into his mind, sparking worry and anxiety. He tried to chase it away by reassuring himself Kokichi was here, but it remained just as strong. Kokichi would stay. Kokichi would stay. He will, he has too.

For now. 


	29. #No.29 Emergency Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**
> 
> [#No.29 Emergency Room]
> 
> -Heavy Injury  
> -Hospitalization
> 
> **Read at your Own Discretion**

Sweat stained his skin. The sheets beneath him stuck to his arms that shook with each time he shuttered. His face was pale as each imaginary needle dipped past his skin, whittling deeper, puncturing his muscles, and cutting his fleshy limbs. Hearing the shallow gasps and clamped cries had left him numb.

“...just breathe Shuichi…” He reminded, ache as two thumbs pressed hard on his eyes. His skin tugged tight under his hallowed eye sockets. “...like the doctor said...” He pressed his forehead against his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the violent shutters that electrified him. 

He laid stiff beside Shuichi in his hospital bed. His muscles locked, his joints creaked with soreness that riddled his bones. He hugged his arm, the one part of him that didn’t sear with white-hot agitation. A fire seemed to have been lit inside him, and like a burning house, it spread quickly. His eyes were like the shattered windows, the flames flickered within his irises. 

It was nearing 5 am. Kokichi lifted his head, squinting at the dim line of sunlight that escaped from the gap in the curtains. _ “...can’t.”  _ Shuichi seethed. His teeth clenched so hard Kokichi could see the visible strain in his jaw. “...I  _ can’t. _ ”

All night he watched Shuichi fight the monstrous feat of agony inside him. His eyes, though thick swipes of gray weighed under them, were wide open. Thin flakes of skin cracked over his lips. His hair was lined with grease, and his cheeks were red with the tears that slowly squeezed into the corners of his eyes. Because at this point all he could do was cry. 

Kokichi was there just before it happened. He had been laughing with his hands folded with his. Snow in early winter fell from the sky. His cheeks were red with cold and the heat he felt from the way Shuichi rubbed his thumb over his freezing fingers. They stepped onto the crosswalk, he was blinded by mild euphoria. His memory wavered like heat in the distance. No warning. No shout of caution. 

A car hadn’t hit their break. A deep thud and sickening crack on concrete rang in his eardrums. Suddenly his hand was empty, yells began to pop from the crowd of strangers. Shuichi laid on the asphalt. Bitten unconscious by the bitter snap of his head on the road when the hood and front bumper collided into his brittle ribs.

A fracture flicked across his skull. Dark heavy bruising formed behind his ears and around his eyes. They can’t do much about broken ribs, they informed. He doesn’t need any more dosage of painkillers, they claimed. Another man is not allowed in his bed, they firmly spoke. Kokichi brushed off his bangs that stuck to his forehead. His skin was oily and shiny around the patched gash over the right side of his forehead. 

He laid his palm over the curve of his cheek. He was burning up under his touch. The fire pulsated and boiled his blood. But he shivered as if he was still lying open in the winter air. Shuichi quivered and sighed. Swallowing hard as he reached blindly for Kokichi’s hand. When his trembling fingers found his wrist he groped to fit his hand with his. “...you don’t...you don’t have to s-stay.” He whispered, his voice was breathy and shrill with each momentary pulse of pain.

“...I know,” he said, in just as a hushed voice. He hates hospitals. The white rooms made goosebumps rise on his skin. His heart pounds when he sees the doctors and nurses walk in their one-color outfit. Despite hating being so close to monitors and blood bags, he clasps Shuichi’s hand tighter. Because if he was burning in an internal inferno. Kokichi could withstand the atmosphere. 

Shuichi looked up at him. His eyes bore a glossy stare. Washed with pain, he closed his eyes, another tear trekking down his pale cheeks. “...thank you…” He breathed, “...for staying...for dealing with…” He paused, a hiccuping breath passed his lips. “...this.” 

Shuichi squeezed his fingers weakly. Kokichi gazed hollowly at the sweat still dripping down his neck. He knows his company means more than words could say. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “...dealing with stuff like this comes with the job.” He smiled feebly. “...the job of being yours.”

“...mm.” Shuichi, for once in the past 24 hours, fought to smile. “...kiss me again…” He muttered. His eyebrows pressed together upward. Another shudder passed through him and he grimaced, inhaling sharply as it came and went. Kokichi sighed, he took his hand and met his fingers with his lips. 

Those peppering kisses grew past his neck, past his jaw, past his chin, onto his chapped lips. Even those Shuichi gasped in pain, even though he shook with the fire's rage inside him, he indulged in Kokichi’s open touch. The only painkiller he had was distraction. It was the kind of kiss born from pity, dripping with sorrow, and accented with desire. Not for each other but for the crackling feeling of his bones grinding together to vanish. 

An hour later the nurse scolded Kokichi for lying with a patient. The bland lecture met his eye roll as he was told to leave the room. He sat outside the room because the waiting room was full. He hung his head in his hands as he propped his elbows on his knees. 

Selfishly he firmly pressed his fingers to his ears to drown out the sounds of Shuichi’s suppressed sobs. 

He could close his eyes to block out the white walls. 

He could allow the numbness of watching Shuichi writhe in incredible pain to wash away the feeling of a hospital.

He held his breath to not get lung fulls of the overpowering stench of rubbing alcohol and thin plastic gloves.

Ignorance is blissful afterall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am determined to push my confidence issues to finish this. I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> There will be warnings on every chapter no matter the content in that chapter. Since any Whump topic can be triggering for someone, I am not the judge of that.


End file.
